


A Mixture of Madness

by Salvia_G



Series: A Mixture of Madness [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cultural Differences, Dwarf Courting, Hobbit Courting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Miscommunication, Possible Implied/Referenced Incest, Post-BOFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvia_G/pseuds/Salvia_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield leads his Company as they reclaim the Lonely Mountain for the Dwarves of Erebor.  Their Hobbit burglar remains with them, but will a cultural misunderstanding cause them to lose him forever?  Or perhaps bring them closer than ever before...</p>
<p>Or maybe both...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Mixture of Madness~人人都爱比尔博~](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820656) by [hana0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana0/pseuds/hana0)



> As always, I own nothing, not Tolkien's lovely _The Hobbit_ nor the Peter Jackson films inspired by the book. But I had great fun playing with the various tropes used as themes in this, and I hope you have as much fun reading it!
> 
> The title comes from a quotation attributed to Aristotle: “No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness.”

 

 

The Dwarves had all gone mad, Bilbo decided.  He had thought that it was all over:  they had won their way into Erebor; Smaug had been defeated by Bard; rather than fight each other, Man, Elf, and Dwarf had banded together against Orc and Warg...Thorin had even forgiven him his theft of the Arkenstone and welcomed him back under the mountain.  But his trials were not over.  Though it was a more innocuous madness, still the way they endangered themselves was madness, and Bilbo was sick from seeing it! 

 

The Company (along with the small contingent of Dwarves Dáin had left behind for the mountain’s defence) worked tirelessly from dawn until dusk to clear away the rubble and repair the damage Smaug had left behind.  Bilbo helped as much as he could, but even the sturdiest Hobbit was not a Dwarf.  It was impossible for him to help with the reconstruction, so instead he scurried behind the work crews cleaning away the dust and smaller debris.  And indeed, there was much need; it was necessary for even the small number of Dwarves currently in Erebor to sleep wrapped in their cloaks in the hall, as not a single residence had been recovered, and the bridges across the great city all had been greatly damaged in Smaug’s single-minded flight to the Treasury. They could not advance far beyond the Treasury or the front Gate, and the Dwarves seemed to have decided by silent accord not to risk a return of the gold sickness by lingering in the Treasury.

 

But though they were all exhausted, dirty, and sometimes even injured by their work in the day, each evening the Dwarves insisted on treading the treacherous stone to explore further into Erebor!  That first night back in the mountain, Ori and Dwalin had nearly been killed on their return from such exploration, but each had set out the next evening as well—Dwalin with Nori and Ori with Fíli.  And Bilbo thought each member of the company excepting Thorin and Glóin had urged him to join them in their endeavours!  Kíli and Fíli in particular had been most insistent in their pleas, and Bofur seemed so saddened by his refusal that Bilbo nearly relented, and he would rather love to search for Erebor’s library with Ori...but it was simply insane to venture beyond the areas that had been declared safe, and those were very few.

 

Thorin was the only one who had a private room, and after the first night he had spent with Bilbo, in which he made it very clear how sorry he was about the whole Arkenstone debacle, and that his feelings for Bilbo were very fond indeed—were in fact all that Bilbo had dared hope for— _so_ fond that Bilbo stumbled out of his room the next morning with bruises sucked onto his skin and beard burn in rather unexpected places and a bum that made sitting a bit uncomfortable that day... Thorin had not engaged in the crazed explorations; but he was closeted each evening in conference—that second night with Balin, and then Óin, and then Bifur, so that Bilbo had nowhere to retreat and no one to hide behind when the Company importuned him.

 

They did at least keep Dáin’s Dwarves off him, when a bold few of those strangers had sought Bilbo’s company in exploring yet another ruined tunnel.  Bilbo would not have minded getting to know some of these rather serious Dwarves if it had not meant venturing into unknown and unsafe caverns, but the Company was very protective of Bilbo.  He thought he might have seen Dwalin handle his war hammer thoughtfully, and Nori had certainly flashed a knife or two, and Kíli had gone so far as to _draw his bow and nock an arrow_ when the last Dwarf had approached Bilbo one evening, and the result was that none of the Dwarves from the Iron Hills even looked at Bilbo anymore.

 

So each evening after supper, when Thorin returned to his room deep in conversation with one of the members of the company, Bilbo was left sitting beside the fire with only Bombur and Glóin for company while the rest of the Company disappeared into the dark and dangerous halls of Erebor, and he fretted about whether one of these nights some of them might not return and their broken bodies be discovered the next morning.  After five days of this, Bilbo could not remain silent a minute longer.  As all gathered for breakfast that morning, he spoke.

 

“Thorin, will you not restrict exploration in Erebor to those places that have already been reinforced and reconstructed?” he asked.  “I am terribly afraid for our friends as they venture out beyond what has been declared safe.  And they all go!  Every evening!”  Bilbo turned to look at each member of the Company.  “You do not know how you worry me!  I cannot sleep for fear that we will lose one of you.”

 

“We survived Smaug and Azog,” Fíli answered exasperatedly.  “I think we can survive a little loose rock.”

 

“ _A little loose rock!”_ Bilbo exclaimed.  “That bridge disintegrated beneath Ori and Dwalin’s feet!”

 

“The only areas that have been declared safe are this hall and the front gate,” Thorin stated.  He seemed bemused for some reason.  “I do not know how these things are done in the Shire, but—“

 

“Oh, confound the Shire!” Bilbo cried.  “The Shire is not relevant!  Our friends going into danger is!”  Fíli’s expression turned mulish.

 

“Well I for one am not stopping,” he told Bilbo.  “And I believe we have all made it clear that you are welcome to join us.”

 

“More than welcome,” Kíli added, and several other Dwarves chimed in to agree.

 

“And yet none of you are willing to spend one night by the fire with Glóin and Bombur and me, but instead rush away as soon as you are able,” Bilbo retorted.  “I am sure I feel very welcome.”

 

Bofur’s brow furrowed.  “Glóin and Bombur married,” he said.

 

“Yes, they are married and I am not,” Bilbo replied angrily.  “I fail to see how that is relevant.”

 

“But...I for one like a little privacy,” Ori interjected, and there was a chorus of agreement.  Bilbo did not understand why these Dwarves continued to change the subject, but he tried to answer Ori calmly.

 

“Privacy is all well and good, but I don’t think it’s worth risking my life or yours for it,” Bilbo said.  He turned back to Thorin.  “Will you not do something?”

 

Thorin shook his head.  “I will not forbid it, though of course I do encourage all possible precautions be taken.”  Bilbo stood up stiffly.

 

“I see,” he said.  “Please excuse me.”  He turned and began to hurry away from the clustered Dwarves so that none might see his tears.

 

“But Bilbo!” Kíli called after him hesitantly.  Bilbo stopped but didn’t turn around.  “If you had a bit of privacy, somewhere safe—“  Bilbo cut him off.

 

“I would certainly go there right now to get away from you—you _Dwarves_ ,” he answered angrily.  “I did not save your lives in the Mirkwood to see you all die once you arrived at Erebor.”  And with that he ran up to the Gate and looked out toward Dale and sobbed out his frustration and fear for his dear, dear friends.  He did not return to work until his eyes were dry and swollen and he could cry no more.  The Company tiptoed around him carefully for the rest of the day.

 

That evening after supper, Kíli approached him.

 

“I have something I’d like to show you,” he said, biting his lip nervously.

 

“Is it across a crumbling bridge over a deadly drop into the depths of the mountain?” Bilbo asked sardonically, but Kíli shook his head.

 

“No,” he said.  “It’s just—this way.”  Kíli led him down the hall to the Gate.  Across an archway that had once led to an archer’s overlook of the approach to the mountain an old tapestry had been strung to create a makeshift curtain.  Kíli lifted an edge of the curtain so that Bilbo could walk under it.

 

The tiny alcove had been turned into a little bedroom:  a pallet made of blankets was laid out on the floor, with a small brazier at its foot, and a candle burnt on a small table near the head of the bed that Bilbo thought must have been raided from the Treasury, covered as it was in gold leaf.  At least, Bilbo assumed it was gold leaf and not solid gold, but perhaps with Dwarves that was an assumption he shouldn’t make.

 

“Do you like it?” Kíli asked.

 

“This is for me?” Bilbo asked, stunned.  “When did you do this?”

 

“Snuck away this afternoon,” Kíli replied.  “I’d seen the tapestry when I was...exploring, and so I went back and got it—“  He lifted his hand to stop Bilbo.  “I know, but I’d been before so I knew it was safe enough.  And I remembered the table from before, when we were in the treasure room, and I had a bit of rope and the candle in my pack...”

 

“Kíli,” Bilbo placed his hand on Kíli’s arm.  “Kíli, this was very sweet of you, and I am indeed grateful.  It will be wonderful to have a place to retreat rather than sleep in the hall with everyone, and that bed looks quite as comfortable as could be.”

 

Kíli stepped forward and raised his hand to stroke Bilbo’s cheek softly.  “Would you like to test it, then?” he asked, his eyes bright with hope.  “I have hardly been able to pay proper attention to any other, for thinking of celebrating with you.”  Bilbo leant back.

 

“Pardon?” he asked, but then Kíli raised his other hand to Bilbo’s face and drew him in for a kiss, so sweet—but not precisely chaste.  Bilbo stiffened in shock and pushed Kíli away.

 

“Kíli, I’m sorry,” he said gently.  “Truly, I do care for you deeply, but...and you are so young...”  Kíli nodded, and blinked a few times, and Bilbo carefully did not notice that he was trying not to cry.  After he had composed himself, Kíli straightened his shoulders.

 

“Should I send in one of the others, then?” he asked.  “I think Balin is eager, and he’s old enough for you I would guess, and has a proper beard too,” he added bitterly.

 

“Surely you know I don’t care about beards,” Bilbo said.  “I hardly could, could I?”  He paused.  “What do you mean, send in one of the others?”

 

“I think they all hung around to see if you would take me or not,” Kíli replied, and Bilbo could see that he was trying not to pout, though he failed sadly.  “Wanted to get their shots in if you didn’t.”

 

Bilbo stood still and blinked.

 

“Do you mean to tell me that the entire company is out there waiting to see if they can _get a leg over_?” he hissed after a moment.

 

“Well, not Glóin or Bombur,” Kíli said.  “They’re married.  And Thorin and Dwalin—“

 

“Yes, I am well aware that Thorin and Dwalin are in conference,” Bilbo interrupted.  “And Thorin...well.  I shan’t—now is hardly the right time to say.  But...”  He stepped around Kíli and flipped up the tapestry curtain to move into the hall.  The majority of the Company was indeed hovering nearby, though for the most part they attempted to seem nonchalant as Bilbo exited his new bedroom.  He stared at them.  Kíli must be mistaken.  There was some other reason—they were respecting his concerns over their safety, perhaps.  But then Nori stepped forward and leaned suggestively into Bilbo, bringing a hand up to tug his cravat loose.

 

“I don’t blame you for wanting a real Dwarf to start, though it seems a bit hard on the lad to leave him out entirely,” he stated confidently, and Bilbo became aware that Nori’s other arm was snaking around his shoulders.  Bilbo sidled away.

 

“I should think he’d want to start with a friend,” Bofur said, and it was the first time Bilbo had heard him seem even the least bit annoyed.  Bilbo stared.

 

“You have all gone mad,” he declared.  “I believe you must excuse me.”  Bilbo hurried down the hall to the storage room that had been converted into Thorin’s chambers.  He hated to interrupt his discussion with Dwalin, but this was ridiculous!  And though Thorin had been so busy, Bilbo had rather been hoping for a repeat of their first night together, so perhaps after Thorin and Dwalin were done talking...

 

He flung open Thorin’s door.  “I am sorry to interrupt, but—“  His voice trailed away.  Thorin reclined nude on the floor, his head thrown back, his beautiful hair spread on the blankets, while Dwalin knelt between his legs, his mouth on Thorin’s cock.

 

“It seems that privacy is not as valued among Hobbits, but Dwarves prefer it in these things,” Thorin said testily as he sat up on his elbows.  Bilbo was so dumbfounded he couldn’t speak, and even more so when Dwalin pulled off of Thorin’s cock with an obscene pop.

 

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he told Thorin.  “Though I’d prefer the door were closed.”  He turned to Bilbo.  “In or out, lad?” he asked.

 

“Most.  Definitely.  OUT.”  Bilbo declared angrily.  “Please excuse me, I’m sure!”  He stepped back, slammed the door, and collapsed against it in shock.  He could not stop his tears.

 

“What was that all about?” he heard Dwalin ask Thorin through the door.

 

“No idea,” Thorin replied.

 

“Shame, that,” Dwalin said.  “From what you said, he’s a sweet little morsel.”  Bilbo bit his lip, and tasted blood.

 

“We’ll figure it out on the morrow,” Thorin said.  His voice lowered to the purr Bilbo had only ever heard before on that one night—only four nights ago.  “Now I believe you were occupied before the Hobbit interrupted. ”  Bilbo gasped in pain, and dashed away from the door without looking at his friends or caring where he went or that it was down one of the unsafe tunnels he had complained of his friends exploring just that morning.  He went as far as he could until the corridor was too dark for him to see, and then he collapsed in a pile on the floor.  He stayed there until the morning, though he slept but little.

 

When he woke, he crept nervously back down the corridor to the main hall.  He paused before he came into view and fiddled a bit with his ring, but decided against it.  He stepped out into the hall.  Most of the Company still slept—though who knows about what Thorin and Dwalin did, Bilbo thought bitterly; perhaps they were yet _occupied_ —but Bombur and Bofur sat talking quietly by the embers of the previous night’s fire while a pot of porridge simmered.

 

Bilbo could not face them after all.  He turned and went to the little separate bedroom Kíli had made for him, but when he lifted the flap, Kíli slept on the pallet he had made with Fíli curled behind him.  Bilbo dropped the flap and closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the cool stone wall.  Surely not.  He _hoped_ not.  But he could not hide here.  He slipped on his ring and went to sit by the fire.

 

The Company seemed a bit subdued as they woke this morning, and Bilbo had to move several times to avoid being sat on, until finally he scooted away to lean against the far wall.  When Dwalin left his bedroll— _not_ Thorin’s room, Bilbo was rather spitefully pleased to see—to come sit by the fire, Bilbo sniffled a bit, but luckily no one heard him.  Not long after that, Thorin emerged from his chamber and Bombur began to quietly serve breakfast.

 

“Where are Fíli and Kíli this morning?  And our burglar?” Thorin asked once he sat down with his bowl.  _Next to Dwalin_ , Bilbo noted with some dismay.

 

“Kíli was a bit upset last night,” Balin said.  “Made a surprise for Bilbo and he didn’t like it.  I think Fíli stayed with him to comfort him.  Suspect they were up late talking and are sleeping in now.  I haven’t seen Bilbo though.”  Thorin sighed.

 

“If he hasn’t turned up in an hour, we’ll have to send out search parties,” he said.  “Drat that Hobbit.”  Bilbo squared his shoulders.  He stood and went to the fire opposite where Thorin sat and took off his ring.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” he said.  “I’m right here.  I saw Fíli and Kíli this morning; they’re still sleeping up in the alcove by the gate.”  He gritted his teeth and turned to Balin.  “And I quite liked the little room Kíli made for me; thank you.”  Though there was a space next to Thorin, he took his bowl of porridge and stood by Bofur and Bombur until Bofur seemed to realise what he wanted and scooted down to make a space for Bilbo.  The Company ate in silence for a while until Balin broke it.

 

“I think you should let Óin take a look at you this morning, laddie,” he told Bilbo.  “You seem a bit under the weather, and yesterday evening you were in quite a state.”

 

“That won’t be necessary; thank you,” Bilbo said quietly.  “I am not ill.  I am perhaps a bit tired, however; I think I will lie down for a while today.”  He finished his porridge quickly and was glad to see Fíli and Kíli stumble over to the fire so that he could retreat to the small alcove bedroom.  He lay on the bed there in the dark, the only light that which flickered in around the edges of the tapestry, and he cried a bit more.  He wished he had never fallen in love with Thorin; or at the least, had never thought that Thorin loved him as well.  He wished he had never had that one glorious night.  As he thought on it, he realised:  Thorin had invited a different Dwarf to his bed every night.  Dwalin was not the only one, he was just the latest one; and Bilbo was nothing more than the first.

 

Bilbo did not come out for lunch, but when it was time for dinner he was too hungry to continue hiding.  He came out slowly, and chose to sit a bit away from the Company, though the Iron Hills Dwarves he tried to engage in conversation still seemed too scared to speak to him.  When dinner was over, Thorin stood and placed his hand on Nori’s shoulder.

 

“I would speak with you,” he said.  “Shall we retire to my room?”

 

Bilbo knew then that he could stay no more.

 

He did make sure that Kíli understood that he loved the little private space that he had made for Bilbo, though Fíli glared at him a bit as he did.

 

“And I would like to say that I am very flattered by—by your interest,” he added.  “Hobbit ways and Dwarf ways seem to be a bit different in this regard.  If I could, then I would most happily choose you...but I cannot.  I am sorry.”

 

Kíli did not say anything, but he nodded; and Fíli glared a bit less, so Bilbo thought that perhaps he had at least fixed that.  He went to pack his bag.  He would leave for Dale in the morning.  He thought Bard and some few Men sheltered there as they began to rebuild the city.

 

The following morning at breakfast, Bilbo sat quietly and tried not to notice how smugly satisfied Nori looked.  As the Company stood to disperse for their various tasks, Bilbo stood as well.

 

“Before you all go, I should like to say goodbye,” he said, and clenched his fists as he tried not to cry.  “I will go to Dale today.”

 

Thorin turned and shook his head.  “Burglar, you know you need not help us with the restoration if you do not wish to, but I cannot spare anyone from today’s work for an escort.  Can you not postpone your visit a few days?”

 

“You misunderstand me,” Bilbo said quietly, avoiding anyone’s eyes.  “I will not return to Erebor, but from there make my way home to the Shire.”  Cacophony filled the air as the company began to protest.

 

“You said you would stay the winter at least!” Bofur objected.

 

“I know I did, and I am truly sorry,” Bilbo replied.

 

“We have not even begun to find the library,” Ori said.  Bilbo bit his lip.

 

“I am sorry, Ori,” he said.  “I am certain it will be wonderful when you do.”

 

The rest of the company’s yelling blurred together and he could not understand them over the tumult in his own head, but Bilbo could see that Thorin frowned but said nothing.  Neither did Kíli speak until he came forward to take Bilbo’s hand imploringly.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” he begged.  “You seemed happy here, and then yesterday I made your room and asked to celebrate with you and now you are leaving us.”  Bilbo took Kíli into his arms.

 

“I promise that it is nothing that you have done,” he told Kíli, who was now crying.  “I will treasure your friendship always.”  He looked up at the rest of the Company.  “All of you:  I am so grateful to call you my friends.”  He sniffed and felt a tear or two roll down his cheek, so he pulled out the handkerchief Bofur had jokingly bought for him in Laketown to dab them away.  “But I think I do not belong here; and after all, I do miss my Shire.”

 

He and Kíli were not the only ones who cried.  Bofur’s eyes glistened, as did Balin’s, and Fíli screwed his fists into his eyes, and Ori openly wept.  Even Dwalin seemed to blink away a few tears.  Thorin, however, stood dry faced, and did not move from where he stood, even when the rest of the Company came forward to embrace Bilbo and say their goodbyes.  Dwalin did not seem to understand why Bilbo was so stiff with him.  But Bilbo could not leave Thorin without saying farewell at the last, so he approached him where he stood after all the others were done.

 

“I am glad I came with you,” Bilbo told him.  “I am glad to see you in your home.  I know that it will be glorious again soon.”

 

“But you will not stay to celebrate our return with us or see it completed,” Thorin said brusquely.

 

“I wish I could,” Bilbo whispered.  He could not raise his voice any higher.  “I would not leave you if I—but I cannot stay.”

 

Slowly, Thorin nodded.  “Dwalin, Fíli,” he summoned.  “See him safely to Dale and into Bard’s hands.”

 

“But—the work—“ Bilbo protested.  _And I can hardly bear to see Dwalin._

 

“The mountain has waited this long,” Thorin told him, “and we would not stand inside it today without you.  We will see you safely to Dale.”  He paused.  “I would you would stay,” he added, and then he seemed to notice the pack at Bilbo’s feet.  “You cannot have taken even the first part of your share,” he said bemusedly.

 

“No,” Bilbo said.  “I—I couldn’t.  I do have my armour.”  Bilbo pulled his shirt open a bit to show Thorin he wore the mithril chain that Thorin had given him.

 

“A pittance of what you are owed,” Thorin shook his head.  “You will not leave us with only that.”  He gestured to call Balin over.  “Balin, see to it that a chest is packed for our burglar.”  Bilbo opened his mouth to demur, but Thorin put a finger to Bilbo’s lips and he subsided.  “It may be a Hobbit-sized chest if you wish, but you will take something of us with you when you go.”  He hesitated, but then took Bilbo gently into his arms, and Bilbo’s tears began again.

 

“I will never forget you,” he told Thorin softly, but he found he could not say more than that aloud.  _I think I will always love you,_ his heart whispered silently.

 

Within the hour, Dwalin and Fíli were ready, and Bilbo and they set out down the mountain.  It was a slow trek without ponies; but Bilbo thought he would be able to buy a pony from one of the farms near Esgaroth, if there was not one to be had in Dale; he might not like to ride, but he must admit it was faster; and this was, after all, only the beginning of his journey home.  He was aware of the Company watching from the Gate, and turned to wave often until the road took them out of view.  They continued on in silence.

 


	2. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf explains it all.

 

It was quiet under the mountain that day, and in the evening, no one seemed to want to celebrate.  Instead they huddled close by the fire and told each other stories of their quest to the mountain and of their burglar.  Some of the Dwarves of the Iron Hills even lingered to listen.

 

“Do you remember?” one of the Company would ask, or “I never laughed harder than when he—“ another would begin, but soon enough even the tales died away.  It was yet early when Thorin retired.  He paused on the way to his room.

 

“Kili,” he called.  “I would speak to you.”  Behind him, he did not know how, but he could hear the tone of the silence change.  “Not like that,” he growled irritably, and the Company burst into laughter and stories again.  He smiled to hear it.

 

Kili shuffled listlessly behind him and sunk to lean against the closed door when Thorin motioned him to come into the room and sit.  Thorin had never before thought of a door as a luxury, but it had proved to be one these last days of celebration, and he was glad of it now for a different reason.  He rubbed his forehead.

 

“Kili, I see that you blame yourself yet, but you must not,” he said.  “Did not our burglar tell you so himself?  Bilbo would not lie to you.”

 

“He might to spare my feelings,” Kili muttered.

 

“He would not lie to you,” Thorin repeated.  “And if your actions had been the ones to drive him away, why should he spare your feelings?  He did not lie.”

 

“Why did he go, then?” Kili asked disconsolately.  “Two days ago, he was happy.  I know he was.”

 

Thorin shook his head.  “I think he must have realised that he did not forgive me for my words and my actions at the Gate that cursed day after all,” he told Kili.  “Of all of us, I have greatly wronged him.”  Kili shook his head and scrubbed his eyes.  “Kili.  Come here,” Thorin said, and he put his arm around his sister-son’s shoulders as together they mourned their burglar’s departure.

 

Somehow Thorin could not bring himself to celebrate the next night either, but the rest of the company did pair up and head out into the mountain to seek out a private space to join together, though Thorin frowned to see Kili remain by the fire with Bombur and Glóin.  Kili did not have Thorin’s reason to feel guilty.  Though their burglar had been right about this much; it gave Thorin a headache worrying that someone would be injured or worse in their explorations, but he could not forbid them this tradition.  These were the worthiest of Dwarves, and they had never had so much to celebrate.

 

Fili and Dwalin returned to the Lonely Mountain five days later to report that Bilbo had been delivered into Bard’s hands in Dale; and that Bard had seemed happy to see him, as happy as grim Bard ever was, anyway.  Bilbo had not said how long he would remain in Dale before beginning the next leg of his trek West, but privately Thorin thought that he was likely hoping for Gandalf’s return.  Thorin hoped for it too; he thought the wizard Bilbo’s best chance of a safe journey to his home.  Ten days later, when Gandalf came again to Erebor, he told him so.

 

“Did you see Bilbo in Dale?” Thorin asked.  “If he has not already, I charge you:  see him safely back to his little Hobbit hole.”

 

“I did not go to Dale before I came here, though I will now,” Gandalf said slowly.  “Bilbo has left the mountain?”

 

“He has,” Thorin confirmed.  “Near three weeks ago now.  None of us understand why, but suddenly he would not stay—not even a day longer.”

 

“He was not upset about anything?” Gandalf persisted.  “He is not one to hold back his complaints.” 

 

“No,” Thorin answered irritably, but then he thought on it.  “No, there was one thing.  He was unhappy with the Company’s explorations into the mountain.”

 

“He did not like the restoration of Erebor?” Gandalf asked, his tone puzzled.

 

“No, not that,” Thorin replied.  “It was the exploration of unsurveyed areas, ones that had not yet been proven to be safe.”

 

Gandalf’s eyebrows rose.  “It seems a valid concern to me,” he said, “and very unlike you to allow it.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Thorin growled.  “But you see how we are living here.  I am the only one with any private space at all.  How should they celebrate our return to the Lonely Mountain when we are all in one space like this?  Oh, Bilbo did suggest we remain in the hall, but while Dwarves may celebrate with each other, we do not celebrate together, if you take my meaning.”  He shook his head.  “I was shocked to hear it of the Shire, after coming to know our Hobbit, but I will not judge.”

 

Gandalf sat in silence for a moment.

 

“Bilbo...suggested you should all celebrate together?” he asked.

 

“More than that, he suggested Glóin and Bombur join in the celebration, though they are married; he told us he knew they were married but didn’t see the relevance!” Thorin exclaimed.  “I should not like to know my spouse had done so, but apparently husbands and wives are all up for sharing in the Shire.”

 

“No, they are most definitely not,” Gandalf sighed.  “I think you have had...a cultural conflict.”  And as Gandalf began to explain, Thorin feared that he was right.  Ten minutes in, Thorin was almost certain; but it remained to be confirmed with the Company.  And if it were true, Thorin had...  He near dragged Gandalf out into the hall by the central fire, where the Dwarves were beginning to gather after their day’s labour.

 

“What happened, that night?” Thorin demanded of the Company.  “When Bilbo became unhappy?  I want as exact a description of that evening’s events as is possible.”  Everyone paused to think.  After a moment, Fili’s eyes flickered to Kili.

 

“That afternoon, Kili spent hours creating a little room for Bilbo, and then he showed it to him after dinner,” Fili said apologetically.  “I thought he liked it.  Later he said he did.  But...” His voice trailed off.  Kili set his jaw and looked away from his brother.  Bofur shook his head.

 

“I hate to say it, and I don’t blame you, lad; but he’s right,” Bofur said.  “He may have liked the room, but he wasn’t exactly what I would call happy when he came out of it.”  Still Kili didn’t speak or meet any eyes, and Ori leapt to his feet.

 

“What did you do?” he yelled.  “Did you try to force him?  Did you tell him he owed you, because you’d made him such a cosy nest?”  Fili stood at that, and began to yell at Ori, and Nori and Dori to yell at Fili in return, and Kili turned white as all the Company joined in.

 

“I would never!” he cried.  “I would never do that to Bilbo!  To anyone!”  He hid his face in his hands.

 

“SILENCE!” Thorin roared, and the Company fell quiet.  He crossed to Kili, and sat by him.  “But something did happen in that room, did it not?” he asked quietly.  “We do not blame you, Kili.  We do not,” he told the rest of the Dwarves gathered there firmly.  “But it seems that is the moment it went wrong.”

 

“I asked him to celebrate with me,” Kili said without lifting his face from his hands, “and he said he would not.  He said I was too young.”  He lifted his face from his hands.  “But he just seemed sad about hurting my feelings, not truly upset!  That came later!”  And Kili glared at Nori.

 

“Nothing else?”  Thorin prodded gently.  Kili sighed.

 

“I showed him the room.  He said he liked it.  I tried to kiss him and he stopped me—I did ask first!” Kili glared at Bofur, who had begun to protest.  “He said I was too young and he didn’t mind about my beard.”

 

“Well, he hardly could, could he?” Dwalin chuckled.

 

“That’s just what he said,” Kili smiled sadly.  “Then—“  He paused, and seemed to realise something.  “Then I asked if he wanted somebody else because they were all just waiting around, ‘cept you and Dwalin, and Bombur and Glóin of course, and he got mad and left.  He said, ‘Do you mean to tell me they’re all just waiting out there to try to get a leg over?’”

 

Gandalf coughed.  “Wrong pipe,” he gasped out.  “My apologies.”  Kili shrugged.

 

“Then Smooth and Slimy over here puts his hand in,” Kili said, and jerked his head at Nori.  “And that’s when he said we’d all gone mad.”

 

“It’s not!” Nori returned.  “First Mister ‘My Mattock is Bigger than Your Mattock’ insulted me, and then he said we’d all gone mad!  Though I thought he seemed more shocked and irritated than unhappy.  And I did say he was unfair to leave you out of it, Kili; I’d thank you to remember that!”

 

“I did not insult you, I said maybe he’d like a friend first,” Bofur objected.  “He hadn’t celebrated once!  Not one night!  I like to start with someone comfortable, if you know what I mean; and I thought he might like the same!  Not to mention my mattock _is_ bigger than your mattock!”  Nori pulled a knife out of nowhere, and Dwalin stepped between him and Bofur.  Chaos erupted once again, swirling around Thorin as he stood still in the midst of it, his mind blank but for the one realisation.

 

“That is ENOUGH!” Gandalf shouted, and the shadows grew on the walls momentarily.  “Enough,” he repeated more quietly as the Company stilled.  “I believe that what has happened has been a simple misunderstanding as can happen when any two cultures encounter each other.  It is no one’s fault, not Kili’s or Nori’s or Bofur’s or even Bilbo’s.”  He sighed.  “For Hobbits, a celebration is a party, with plentiful food and drink and friends, and often music and dancing; and while courting couples may sneak off into the woods for a quiet moment together, it is not considered part of the celebration but part of the courting; and to engage in such activities without the benefit of courtship—or with more than one other at all—is considered scandalous indeed.  You are all lucky that Bilbo did not celebrate with any of you, for to him, such an action would be tantamount to a promise.  For Hobbits sex is for two who love and have cleaved to each other, rather than the Dwarven tradition of an activity companions share to show friendship and mark a monumental occasion or accomplishment.”

 

Thorin did not know what to say.  His eyes sought Dwalin’s, and his were just as stricken.  Thorin closed his eyes, then opened them, then breathed in deep.

 

“It was me,” he stated bleakly.  He should never have touched Bilbo.  He did not know what celebrating meant.  “I am the one who drove our burglar away.”

 

Balin shook his head.  “No, lad, he said he’d forgiven you already; and I think it was true.  That Arkenstone business had nothing to do with this.”  Thorin shook his head.

 

“No, it did not,” he agreed.  “But it is not true that our burglar had not celebrated with anyone.  The first night, I invited him, and he went.”  Before anyone could stop him he drew a knife and severed one of his braids.  “And then the last night, when I had invited Dwalin, he...”  Thorin’s throat closed and he could not speak.  _Bilbo’s face..._   He grabbed a hank of hair and sliced it off so that it fell to the ground next to his braid.  He opened his mouth and nothing came out, and so he took his knife to another hank of hair.  The Company stared in stunned silence.  Dwalin’s hand came up to hold Thorin’s wrist, and he twisted the knife out of his hand, then turned it to his own hair.

 

“I was with Thorin, and Bilbo opened the door, and he just stood there,” Dwalin said.  He cut off another lock of coarse grey hair.  “So I told him he could join us or not but don’t stand there with the door open.”  Thorin took the knife back and cut off one last hank of hair before he sheathed it again.

 

“I’m guessing you weren’t just talking,” Bofur said hesitantly.

 

“No,” Thorin replied forbiddingly.  He went to his room and slammed the door behind himself.  _Why?  Why?_   _Why could he have no honour when he dealt with the Hobbit?_   In all his years he had never wanted this with anyone before.  He was married to Erebor, and he had not known that he made a promise.  But he would do what he must for honour’s sake.

 

He slammed the door open again.

 

“Dwalin!  Fili!  Bofur!” he roared.  “Tomorrow first light you will leave for Dale and you will not come back without our burglar, will he, nill he.  It seems I am to be married.”

 

The Company broke out into spontaneous cheers.  Kili and Ori embraced each other, while Nori and Bofur and Fili began to dance in a circle, their arms around their shoulders.

 

Gandalf cleared his throat, and the Dwarves fell silent again.

 

“Perhaps not Dwalin,” he suggested, then took a puff on his pipe.  Dwalin’s face fell, and Thorin knew his own did as well, but—

 

“Perhaps not,” he agreed.  “Kili, you will take his place.”  Kili beamed, and Thorin felt a bit of joy amidst his regret for being able to put such a smile on his sister son’s face.  Then he remembered that it was likely thoughts of the Hobbit he had wronged so greatly that put it there.  He himself was a cad and a villain.  The joy dissipated like smoke.  He turned and went back into his room, though this time he did not slam the door.

 

After a few minutes, Gandalf knocked and entered.

 

“Do you love him?” he asked without preliminaries.  “Bilbo has been raised to expect a marriage for no other reason.  And I think marriage among Dwarves is much the same—for love, or not at all.”

 

“I do not,” Thorin replied stoically.  “I respect him; I honour him; I am grateful to him.  I am fond of him, I think.  But I do not love him.”

 

“I will not permit this to go forward if he does not agree,” Gandalf said.  “He must be willing.”

 

“Do you think I would force him to it?” Thorin ground out.  “I marry him to regain my honour, not throw it out of the mountain.”

 

Gandalf nodded.  “Very well,” he said.  “I believe I will join your retrieval party tomorrow.”  He paused.  “Should he agree, I think Bilbo might like it if you were to ask Lord Elrond to preside over the ceremony.  He was quite impressed with Rivendell, as I recall.”

 

“Don’t push me, wizard, and don’t try to manipulate me either,” Thorin growled.  “I was going to ask you to do it anyway.”  Gandalf smiled widely.

 

“As long as that’s settled,” he said, and left Thorin to his thoughts, confused and murky though they were.

 

 


	3. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is brought back to the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Bilbo's Birthday, everyone!

 

Three days later, the small group was visible trekking back to the Lonely Mountain.  Bombur, who had been on watch when they were first sighted, reported that they seemed to have purchased ponies.  Thorin sighed.  He had no idea where they were going to put ponies or what they would feed them or who would care for them.  _Whichever of those idiots wanted to buy them_ , Thorin decided.  Still, it had brought them back to Erebor sooner than they were expected.  He hastened back inside.  He would need to ensure that all was prepared for Bilbo’s early arrival.

 

Bilbo was clearly furious as he climbed the rocky way up and into Erebor’s Gate. He looked harmless as he stalked through the Gate and into the hall, his eyes snapping under his tousled curls, his mouth set in a grim line; but nevertheless Thorin was wary.  Their burglar had proven himself dangerous many times over.

 

“You!”  Bilbo exclaimed.  “You— _Dwarf_!  Are you satisfied?  I am sure I thought better of you than Hobbit-napping!”  He turned to scan the Company, his eyes narrowed.  “All of you!  You should be ashamed to keep me here against my will.”  Last of all he turned to Gandalf.  “And I’m not speaking to you, either.”  With that he ducked under the curtain to his little alcove and let it fall behind him.  After a moment, his grudging voice floated out into the hall.  “I will say the accommodations are rather nicer than Thranduil’s prison cells.  This is quite lovely!” he shouted angrily.  But he did not emerge.

 

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo’s small escort.

 

“It went well, then?” he inquired.

 

“As well as could be expected,” Bofur answered.  “Not sure what we’ll do with the ponies, but after the first day, when we nearly lost him twice—it was lucky Kili had stuck so close to him.”

 

“Nearly lost him twice?” Thorin asked with dismay.  “Was the road from Dale so dangerous as that?”  If Orcs remained so close to the mountain, or bandits had come to take advantage of the Men’s chaos...if a group of bandits grew strong they might decide that the prize to be had was worth the danger of attacking Erebor.

 

“No,” Fili said.  “We were still in Dale.  He used his ring to try to get away, but Kili noticed right away and tackled him before he got too far.  So we bought the ponies to slow him down.  You know he always had so much trouble riding.”

 

“And at night Kili slept with his arms around him,” Bofur added.  “I figure Kili liked that part quite a bit.”  Kili blushed but looked defiant.

 

“He didn’t get away, did he?” he asked.  “Which I think he would have at least four times if I hadn’t been close enough to stop him.”

 

“And now?”  Thorin asked.  “What is to keep him from simply slipping on his ring and disappearing again?”

 

“He promised not to last night, at least until you had a chance to speak to him,” Fili said.  “I think he was tired of sleeping with Kili clinging to him like a limpet.”  Kili punched his brother in the arm.

 

“He did say I kept him warm,” he protested.  Fili snorted.

 

“He said, ‘At least you’re warm, you beardless Dwarf-bait,’ and then he said he should be put in gaol,” Fili replied.

 

“He already said he didn’t care about my beard; he was just trying to get a rise out of me,” Kili told him, his arms crossed firmly across his chest.  “I think the gaol bit was the same thing.”  Gandalf shook his head.

 

“I think that was another misunderstanding; I believe Bilbo meant that _he_ should be gaoled for—ah—cavorting with one who was not quite of the same level of maturity,” he said.

 

“Ha!” Fili exclaimed.  “He means you’re a child!”  Kili’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I got him here, didn’t I?  Which is more than any of the rest of you would have done without tying him up!” he stated angrily.

 

“I can hear you all quite clearly, you know,” Bilbo called from the nearby alcove.  “Would you please just go away?”

 

“You will not leave?” Thorin asked.  Bilbo’s head poked out from behind his curtain.

 

“I gave my word, didn’t I?” he ground out through gritted teeth.  “Now go away!  You can say whatever you have to say this evening, before you all run off to frolic under the blossoming lime trees like...like a bunch of Elves!”  He retreated behind his curtain again as the Company muttered angrily at that.

 

“There’s no need to be insulting, Mister Baggins,” Dori chided.

 

“And there aren’t any lime trees growing in the mountain,” Ori added, perplexed.

 

“I believe that is a bit of a euphemism,” Gandalf said.  “Bilbo means to celebrate.  I will remind you that celebrating has quite a different meaning in the Shire.”

 

“It certainly does!” Bilbo exclaimed angrily from behind the curtain.  “And I’m still not speaking to you, Gandalf!  Unless you’re bringing me some tea, go away, the lot of you!”  Thorin motioned the gathered Company to move to the other end of the hall, by their fire, and glared at the gawking Iron Hills Dwarves until they went back to work.

 

“He knows why you retrieved him, then?” Thorin asked quietly once they were further away.

 

“No,” Fili replied.  “We didn’t go into that, just said that you wanted to speak with him again.  But we did explain about the celebrating confusion.”

 

“And?” Thorin asked.

 

“You saw his reaction,” Bofur said.  “Shocked is the least word for it.”

 

“He fell off his pony,” Kili added, “and lay on his back staring at the sky saying, ‘I never!  In all my years!’ over and over again.  And he wouldn’t meet any of our eyes for the rest of the day.”

 

“Blushed red as a ruby, too,” Bofur said.  “And then he was pretty quiet for a while, when he’d been complaining nonstop before that.”

 

Thorin nodded.  “Very well,” he said.  “I will speak with him this evening.  Bombur, if we have any, will you make our burglar some tea as he requested?  The rest of you:  to work.  We do not have time for this.”  The Company dispersed, but Gandalf pulled Thorin aside to speak to him quietly.

 

“I will go now that all seems well enough with you, but I think you should expect a visit from Bard shortly,” he told Thorin.  “He was quite reluctant to release Bilbo into our care, and I had to speak rather strongly about good relations between Men and Dwarves to convince him to do so.  He will be coming to check on Bilbo’s wellbeing here.”  _Bard.  Just what he needed._   Thorin nodded coolly and went back to the restoration work himself.

 

Bilbo grudgingly emerged from his retreat for dinner, but his ears did go red whenever he met anyone’s eyes; and he shied away from the rest of the Company to sit close to Glóin.  After dinner Thorin stood and offered Bilbo his hand.

 

“Will you join me, Burglar?” he asked.  “I would speak with you.”  Bilbo did indeed turn red as a ruby and sputtered.

 

“To speak, Bilbo,” Thorin emphasised.  “Nothing more.”  Bilbo gazed at Thorin’s outstretched hand for a moment before he stood and preceded Thorin to his chamber.  He pointedly did not take Thorin’s hand.  Thorin sighed and followed.

 

Bilbo did not look at him once they were closeted in Thorin’s room, only examined the map on the wall closely.  This would not be easy.

 

“You’ve seen that map before, many times,” Thorin said.  “Will you not look at me, or must I speak to your back?”

 

“You may speak to my back,” Bilbo told him.  Thorin sighed exasperatedly.

 

“Bilbo, look at me,” he said.  Reluctantly, Bilbo turned, but still he did not meet Thorin’s eyes.  Thorin took one of Bilbo’s hands in his, and lifted his chin with the other.

 

“Yet again I have wronged you greatly,” he said.  “I know you may not forgive me; but know also that I would never have hurt you willingly, and that I regret it very much.  I cannot forgive myself.”  Bilbo nodded.

 

“Fili and Bofur explained it to me,” he said quietly.  “It was just a misunderstanding.  There is nothing to forgive.  I only...I think it best I return to the Shire where I know what it means when a Hobbit does something.  I do not think my heart could take another shock like this one.  It felt rather like my first sight of Smaug.”

 

“Though this custom is strange to you, I do not think Dwarves are so different from Hobbits as that,” Thorin told him.  “We travelled well together for many months without any such misunderstanding, though there were many trials along the way.”

 

“That’s part of it,” Bilbo replied.  “I didn’t know it was a misunderstanding at first.  I am a bit afraid that I will learn that something one of my friends has done will turn out to have meant something very different to him.”  He paused before he continued quietly, so quietly that Thorin could barely hear him.  “I am a bit afraid that I will learn that what I have thought great friendship is not at all the same for all of you.”  Thorin squeezed his hand tightly.  _Their poor burglar_.

 

“Do not question our feelings for you,” he said.  “You have been the best of friends to us, a far better friend than we have deserved.  We esteem you greatly.  We were all saddened when you chose to leave us so suddenly.”  He took both Bilbo’s hands and squeezed them again.  “I would not have you leave at all if it were my choice to make.”  Bilbo did not speak for a long while, though he did not pull away from Thorin either.

 

“Thank you,” he finally said, then took a deep breath.  “Was this what you called me back to say?  I think you might have written a letter.  You should know that whatever it means to Dwarves, Hobbit-napping is considered a crime in the Shire.”

 

“I am ashamed to say that it is a violation of Dwarven law as well,” Thorin answered.  “But I do have more to say, and it must be said in person.”  Now that it came to it, Thorin found the next part very difficult.  He had long ago thought he would never come to this; and now, the manner in which it had...but he would be a despicable Dwarf indeed if he did not do all he could to repair his honour.  He took a deep breath and bent his knee.  Bilbo’s eyes grew very round.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” he said.  “Will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage and becoming my husband and Consort?  I lay all of Erebor at your feet.”  Bilbo stepped back in shock and tried to pull his hands out of Thorin’s, but Thorin tightened his own hands and would not release Bilbo’s.

 

“I can’t,” Bilbo said.  “I am...I do not know what to say.  I am stunned that you should offer.”

 

“My honour demands it,” Thorin replied quietly.  “I owe you too much; and while I did not know it, by your understanding I made you a promise that night.”  Bilbo shook his head.

 

“I can’t,” he repeated.  “I think your honour must be satisfied in having made the offer, however.  You may rest easy.”  Thorin did not move.

 

“I beg it of you, Bilbo,” he said.  “If you cannot say yes now, at least remain at the mountain with us, and consider if you might change your mind.”

 

“You made me no promise,” Bilbo replied, smiling sadly.  “It was I who misunderstood.  But I think perhaps it only shows how different our cultures must be.  And...you clearly do not feel as I do.”  A tear slowly slipped down his cheek.

 

“Unwitting though it may have been, I did make you a promise,” Thorin disagreed.  “My honour was shattered the next night when by Hobbit standards I broke it.”  Bilbo flinched.

 

“You do not love me,” he said.

 

“No,” Thorin admitted.  “Though I value you greatly, I do not love you.”  Bilbo nodded, and another tear fell from his eye.

 

“Thank you for the offer, Thorin,” he said, and then he truly began to cry.  Thorin’s heart ached to see it—what had he done?  Twice he had harmed Bilbo.  And there had been no gold sickness this time.  He had no excuse.  After Bilbo controlled his sobs a bit, he continued.  “I can’t,” he said.  He pulled his hands away, and this time Thorin let him go.

 

“Will you not stay with us nevertheless?” he asked.  “We are not ready to say goodbye to you, and the winter is no time to cross the Misty Mountains.  Your journey would be very dangerous now.”  Bilbo was very quiet and still for a moment, but then he shook his head.

 

“I can’t,” he said.  “I—that night—and then the next, when you called Nori—I couldn’t watch you go with another now that I know what it means.  I am sorry; I know I cannot ask it of you.  But I could not bear to watch you with another.”

 

“Our celebrations are finished; you need not worry on that account.  And whether you go or not, there will be no others for me,” Thorin told him.  “I am promised to you.”  Once again Bilbo’s tears began to fall.

 

“It was not your fault,” he cried.  “It was just—You owe me nothing!  I will not trap you!”

 

“You do not,” Thorin said, though he did feel trapped.  But Bilbo had not done it purposefully.  The look on his face, when he had opened to door to find Thorin with Dwalin—it had haunted Thorin once he learnt what it meant.  Bilbo blinked several times before he turned back to study the map again.

 

“I will not change my mind,” he told Thorin.

 

“I must continue to try,” Thorin replied adamantly.  Bilbo shook his head.

 

“You don’t love me,” he said.  “I won’t change my mind.  But I will stay until springtime.  I was very sorry to leave the way I did.”  Thorin stood.

 

“I thank you for it, Bilbo,” he said.  “I am gladdened to hear it, and the Company will be as well.”  He gestured to the single chair in his room.  “Will you sit with me for a while?  I should like to learn what it means to court in the Shire.”  Bilbo bit his lip, but he sat; and Thorin settled on the bed by his feet.  After a time in which Bilbo seemed to gather his thoughts, he began.

 

“Usually courting begins with an invitation to dance, or to walk someone home from a visit, or the market,” he said.  Thorin hoped their burglar’s voice would not be so sad for much longer.  It was painful to hear him, particularly knowing that Thorin was the cause of it.  “Two dances, especially—one dance only might just be between friends.”  Bilbo took a deep breath.  “And then the one courting often will give flowers, and those can mean different things; so they are chosen very carefully, to show devotion, or affection, or even passion...”  Thorin listened to Bilbo for a long time.  It seemed quite fast to him, but though the signs were different it was not so different from Dwarven courting, with the exception of the rules for sharing of bodies.  Those were completely backwards and upside down.  He reached out to take Bilbo’s hand again.

 

“So this would be one sign,” he said, “that I wish to court you?”  Bilbo blushed and tried to pull his hand away, but Thorin did not let him.

 

“It would,” Bilbo replied softly.

 

“And what we do now, sitting in the evening, and talking:  it could be another,” Thorin added.  Bilbo nodded, his face still pink.  Thorin stood, and pulled Bilbo to his feet, and he led him from the room and down to Bilbo’s little alcove.  “I have walked you home,” he said.  “This would be another.”

 

“It was hardly much of a walk,” Bilbo snapped, and Thorin smiled to see their burglar’s spirit returning.

 

“Nevertheless,” he said.  “No matter how short a walk, I have walked you home.  Must we parade up and down the hall from Gate to fire and back again until the walk has been long enough?”  The corner of Bilbo’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head.  It was almost a smile, Thorin thought triumphantly.  But there was one more thing he must say.

 

“In Dwarven courting,” he told Bilbo, “we should not be able to begin with the hurt between us that I have caused you.  I am first required to make amends as best I can, and only when you have accepted that may the courting begin.”

 

“I suppose that’s the same in the Shire, though perhaps not so formal,” Bilbo said.  “You can’t really court someone you’ve been fighting with.”

 

“Just so,” Thorin said.  He drew his knife and cut off his other braid.  Bilbo looked aghast as Thorin placed it in his hands.  “I have caused you grievous harm, and I will make it up to you if I can.”  He drew Bilbo’s hands to his lips and kissed each slowly.  Bilbo’s eyes were wide.  His lips were parted and his skin was soft beneath Thorin’s lips, and with a jolt Thorin remembered why he had sought Bilbo out for celebration first of all.  He had wanted this Hobbit, and wanted him badly; and when he had had Bilbo beneath him...Thorin had been very tempted to call Bilbo again, though he must move on to others of the Company or cause great offense.  He kissed Bilbo’s hands again.  “I have liked what I have learned about how Hobbits court,” he said.  “I should like to continue to court you in that manner as well.”

 

Bilbo’s hand hesitantly came up to feather through Thorin’s hair, where he had sliced it away when he had learned how he had lost his honour.

 

“So that is what happened here,” he said.  Thorin nodded.

 

“Dwalin has cut his hair too, for the harm we did you,” he said, but mentioning Dwalin was a mistake, for Bilbo’s eyes fell and he pulled away his hands.

 

“Goodnight, Thorin,” he murmured in a low voice before he disappeared behind the sheltering curtain.  Thorin stood there for a while.  He was surprised to learn that he felt hurt by Bilbo’s withdrawal, but then he straightened his shoulders.  Bilbo had not said yes, but it had not gone badly until the end.  He was resolved to continue; his honour might yet be salvaged.  Thorin retreated to his room.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The blossoms of the lime tree symbolise fornication, or alternatively, conjugal fidelity; but I think we can all guess which meaning Bilbo refers to in this instance.


	4. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is made an interesting offer.

 

Bilbo lay for a long time looking at the beautifully bejewelled flowers on the wall hanging someone had found to decorate his little room while he was gone.  He thought he remembered the soft furs beneath him from before—from Thorin’s own bed.  The candle on his bedside table now shone brightly from a gleaming golden candlestick, and it had been joined by a small silver sculpture—of what, Bilbo could not tell, but it was lovely.  His heart had been mended a bit, he thought, by what he had learnt about the way the Dwarves shared their bodies with each other to mark such momentous occasions or great victories, for it meant that Thorin had not intended to betray him, and still more by Thorin’s kindness to him this evening.  Though he still thought the Hobbit-napping a step too far.

 

For a while as he drifted off to sleep, he allowed himself to dream a bit about what marriage to Thorin would be like; but the image of Dwalin and Thorin together could not be banished from his mind, nor could Thorin’s words.  Perhaps Thorin had not meant to hurt him, but he had; and he didn’t love him, he offered from some strange Dwarvish idea of honour.  Bilbo could not think of a single situation in which marriage was the solution to lost honour, excepting perhaps a pregnancy early in courting, and that could hardly be the case here. 

 

He dreamt that night of marrying Thorin under the Party Tree, wreaths of columbine, convolvulus major, and yellow tulips crowning their heads, and he himself swollen with what he knew was somehow Thorin’s child.  Dwarves and Hobbits were copulating everywhere; right next to him Kili rolled in the grass with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.  In the morning, Bilbo shook his head.  What was he thinking, that he would have a dream such as that?  He was going a bit mad himself.  Bilbo gathered himself together and went to breakfast.

 

Bombur stirred a pot of porridge over the fire again; Bilbo was becoming very tired of porridge.  He wished the kitchens didn’t lay somewhere deeper in the bowels of the mountain; he was confident that Bombur could work miracles given ingredients and a proper kitchen.  Perhaps in the spring their diet would become more varied, but it would not matter to Bilbo.  _I will leave in the spring_ , Bilbo reminded himself.

 

When Bilbo sat down, resignedly staring into his bowl of porridge, Kili came to sit next to him.

 

“I think you will be surprised by what we have done while you were gone to Dale,” he said.  “May I show you?”

 

“I should like to see,” Bilbo said, nodding.  “Have you finally been able to shore up the supports to the main bridge?”

 

“Better,” Kili said.  “We have finished it.  And as we hoped, much of what remains across the way was undamaged by Smaug.  Very little has been required to make it safe, though it is all still rather dusty from the passage of the years since the mountain had to be abandoned.  And now we have turned to some of these tunnels,” he said as he gestured to the passageways leading away from the Gate.  “I am told that they lead first to a merchants’ quarter, and then to residences beyond.  The chambers of the royal family are down that one, but Thorin says we will leave it ‘till last.”  Bilbo smiled.

 

“Then I shall hurry through my breakfast, unHobbity though it may be, as I am quite eager to begin,” he told Kili, and he turned to his bland porridge with a will.  He wished he had thought to try to buy some salt, or cinnamon perhaps, from the Men in Dale, but he had intended to go home, not back to the Lonely Mountain.  But he had promised that he would be here through the winter. And now that the rest of the mountain was accessible, perhaps the food might be improved, limited though it might be.  He must ask Kili if they could search for the kitchen.

 

Kili seemed quite surprised that Bilbo wanted to see the kitchen, but he was content enough to look for it.  Bilbo found the ways of the mountain confusing, and asked Kili how he did not get lost.  Kili shrugged.

 

“It is not that I know what I will find as we go,” he said.  “But somehow I know where we are in relation to the mountain as a whole, and I remember where we have been already.  I suppose all Dwarves do.”

 

“At least underground,” Bilbo smiled.  “As I recall, Thorin was lost twice on the way to my smial.”

 

“That was much harder,” Kili said.  “All the ways curved around, and everything looked the same!”

 

“So just as it is for me here,” Bilbo replied smartly.  “Now which way was it back to that large hall that seemed to be for dining?  I would think the kitchen must be close to there.”  Kili laughed and pointed.

 

“This way,” he said.  “Lead on, Mister Boggins.”

 

“I should think not,” Bilbo said.  “We’d never make it back.”  They did eventually find what must be the main kitchen for Erebor, or at least a main kitchen—the city was quite large—and it took Bilbo’s breath away.  He couldn’t wait to show Bombur.  He wondered why the Dwarves had not yet moved their camp further into the mountain, especially when they had valued privacy for their “celebrations” so much as to tread these ways when they had not yet been declared safe.  He asked Kili why it was so.  Kili seemed a bit confused by the question.

 

“The celebrations are over,” he said.  “So privacy is not much needed anymore.  And moving over here means we are further from the corridors where we work now.”

 

“But you might find furniture!  Beds!  Far more comfortable places to live than the front hall!” Bilbo exclaimed.

 

Kili shrugged.  “I suppose comfort is less important to Dwarves than it is to Hobbits,” he said.  “We’ll move when Thorin tells us it’s time.”

 

“I see,” Bilbo said.  After a minute, he added, “Do you think ‘tis time for lunch yet?  Only I have quite an appetite from all this walking.”  Kili laughed, and steered Bilbo back towards the way they had come.

 

They arrived a bit late for lunch, in fact, but there was a bit of _cram_ left for them.  _Cram_ was another food Bilbo was quite done with.  He told Bombur of the kitchens, and he seemed quite as interested as Bilbo had hoped.

 

“But no matter how well the kitchen is equipped, we can’t do much without food,” he said, “and that’s in short supply.”

 

“Perhaps we might trade with the Men,” Bilbo suggested.  Bombur looked askance at him.

 

“I’ll leave asking Thorin to you,” he told Bilbo.  “He might listen to you.”

 

“I will, then,” Bilbo replied.  He looked around.  “As soon as I find him.”  Bombur jerked his head towards Thorin’s rooms.

 

“He’s in there,” he said.  “In conference with Balin and that engineer of Dain’s.”  Bilbo knew better than to interrupt Thorin “in conference” now.

 

“I’ll wait until they’re done,” he said firmly.  Bombur looked at him questioningly.

 

“I’ll wait,” Bilbo repeated.

 

It was not long until Thorin and the others emerged from his room, and right away they began instructing the gathered Dwarves as to the tasks they were to complete that afternoon.  Bilbo was not given any assignment, so he approached Thorin after he was done.

 

“What am I to do this afternoon?” he asked.

 

“Whatever you should like, Burglar,” Thorin told him.  “I will not ask you to spend your time with us in labour.”

 

“I shall grow very bored if I do nothing,” Bilbo said.  “And I do have an idea for something I would like to do, if you will permit it.”

 

“Whatever you should desire,” Thorin said, smiling warmly.  “I am just grateful you have returned to us.”

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, and turned away, then turned back again.  “Only I am afraid I shall get lost on the way.  May I borrow Kili to show me how to go again?”  Now Thorin’s eyes narrowed.

 

“What is it exactly that you want to do?” he asked.

 

“I want to clean the kitchens so we might start cooking our meals there,” Bilbo answered.  “But it was rather far away, and I know I won’t be able to find my way back without help.”  Thorin’s eyebrows rose.

 

“The kitchens?” he said.  “I suppose I did say you could do as you liked.  But I can’t spare Kili to stay with you all afternoon to guide you back.”

 

“Just send him back when you’re done for the day,” Bilbo said.  “I will be just fine on my own.  Well, my own and a cloth for dusting.  And a bucket of water.  And soap if there is any.”

 

Thorin began to laugh.  “We shall see what can be found,” he said.  “A bucket of water, certainly.  The rest, I am not sure.”

 

“A broom as well,” Bilbo mused.  Thorin laughed again, shaking his head, and clapped Bilbo on the shoulder before gesturing Kili over to them.

 

“Find Bilbo whatever he wants if we have it,” Thorin told Kili.  “His list is ever growing.  And then you will take him to the kitchens before you begin clearing rock up here.”  Kili smiled and nodded, so it seemed he didn’t mind being taken from his work for a while, and Bilbo set him to it.  Neither soap nor broom was to be had, but the bucket of water was easy; and Bilbo blanched to see the cloth Kili found for him:  it was clearly the shirt he had worn into battle.

 

“It’s ruined, isn’t it?” Kili asked, shrugging.  “So you might as well use it.  We’re not going to find anyone who packed a dust rag.”

 

“I’m not cleaning the kitchen with your bloody, filth-encrusted shirt!” Bilbo exclaimed.

 

“So wash it first,” Kili said.  “Don’t be so fussy, Mister Boggins.”  Bilbo huffed, but began to heat the water Kili had brought him over the fire.  It hardly mattered if the bloodstains set, he supposed, and he should certainly like to know the appalling thing had been sanitized.  After a moment he told Kili to bring him any more ruined clothing he could find.  If it couldn’t be cleaned, Bilbo would burn it.  The pile Kili brought him was smaller than he had thought it would be; apparently it was only Fili and Kili who had not thought to deal with their clothing from the battle.  _Dwarflings_ , Bilbo thought.  He washed it all then laid it out to dry before he told Kili he was ready to be led down into the mountain.

 

Now that Kili knew where to go, it was a much faster walk down to the kitchens.  When they arrived, Bilbo thanked him, pointed to where to set the bucket, and said he would see him when it was time for dinner.  Kili paused for a moment by the door as he went, then walked over to a piece of slate attached to the nearby wall.  He reached for something lying on a tray below the slate, then took it to the slate and drew a little squiggle.

 

“Here we go, Bilbo,” he said.  “This will be handy.  I’ll mark the way back with this chalk, and you will be able to go back and forth as you like.  You’ll be able to explore a bit on your own, too, if you want.”

 

“Thank you!” Bilbo said, pleased as could be.  “It will be almost as good as being a Dwarf.”  Kili laughed and waved on his way out the door, tossing the piece of chalk in his hand.  Bilbo looked around for a moment then set to work with a will.

 

It was a dirty business, cleaning the kitchen, and Bilbo undid all his work when he picked up an old flour sack to move it out of the cabinet it had been stored in over to his trash pile and it broke.  The flour spread out all over the floor and puffed up into the air to cover any nearby surface and Bilbo, too.  He wiped it out of his eyes and sighed.  Perhaps it was time to be done for the day.  He dusted himself off as well as he could, which was not very well at all; and thought for only a moment about washing in his bucket of wash water, but it was filthy.  He would wash when he could draw up new water from the river.

 

Following Kili’s arrows marking the way back was quite easy, and Bilbo found that Bombur was only now beginning to prepare dinner.  He laughed heartily to see Bilbo, who made a rather rude gesture in return on his way to the Gate.  The water from the pool at the base of the Gate was quite cold, and Bilbo took the bucket to warm by the fire.  As he waited for it to heat, Dwarves began to trickle back to the hall.  Most of them reacted quite as Bombur had to see Bilbo sitting sulkily by the fire.  Bofur took one look and collapsed to the floor, laughing.

 

“Yes, yes, it’s quite amusing,” Bilbo grumbled.  “You are none too clean!”

 

“You look like you’ve been dipped in chalk dust!” Bofur exclaimed.  “From head to toe!  Our Hobbit is a ghost!”

 

“Ha ha ha,” Bilbo complained.  “It was flour,” he muttered.  Bofur burst into laughter again.

 

When he arrived, even Thorin’s lips twitched to see Bilbo.

 

“I see you have been working hard, Bilbo,” he said.  “How fare the kitchens?”  Bilbo pouted.

 

“Worse than when I started, I think,” he said, “or at least, no better.  But tomorrow I will try again.”  He and Thorin smiled at each other for a moment, and then Bombur called them all to dinner.  Bilbo washed his hands and face as best he could, then went for his meagre bowl of stew.  After dinner, Kili offered to carry his bucket of warmed water to Bilbo’s room, and Bilbo happily agreed.  As they reached the tapestry Kili had hung to create a door for the room, he paused for a moment.

 

“Bilbo, may I ask you something?” he said hesitantly.

 

“Of course,” Bilbo replied.  “What would you like to know?”  Kili leant against the wall and kicked desultorily at the floor.  He didn’t say anything.

 

“What is it, Kili?” Bilbo prompted.

 

“You understand now about Dwarven celebration,” Kili said.

 

“I do,” Bilbo said.  “And I am not offended by it, truly.  You may rest easy on that account.”

 

“I am gladdened to hear it,” Kili told him.  “For this is what I’d like to say:  I’d like to celebrate with you, and I know there are others who want to also.”  Bilbo shook his head and opened his mouth, but Kili stopped him.

 

“Wait,” he said.  “Just listen.”  Reluctantly, Bilbo nodded.  Kili looked earnestly into his eyes.  “Sharing bodies does not have to be carnal,” he said.  “Certainly you didn’t think family would share in that way!”  Bilbo grimaced.

 

“I wasn’t sure it was safe to ask,” he replied.  “If the answer was yes, I didn’t want to know.”

 

“It isn’t,” Kili said.  “Celebration is about closeness, and bonding together, and there are ways to do that without...without the other.  Simply kissing, or embracing, or even sitting together in private to speak about what one has meant to the other.”  He shrugged.  “It’s true that for unrelated and unmarried Dwarves, it often goes that far.  But it needn’t.”

 

“But Glóin and Bombur never...” Bilbo protested.

 

“They would have if it weren’t for you,” Kili told him.  “Except the first night, you never went, so there wasn’t a chance for the rest of us to talk with either of them.  I think Glóin and Óin sat by the fire the night you were with Thorin.  Not sure what Bombur did.”

 

“So I kept them from this—this Dwarven tradition,” Bilbo said, frowning.  “I am sorry for it.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Kili assured him.  “They joined the celebrating after you were gone.  We have all had our time with both of them.”

 

“Good,” Bilbo said, nodding slowly.  He picked up the bucket of water from where it sat by his feet.  “Was that all?”  Kili took the bucket and returned it to the floor.

 

“You haven’t answered me,” he said, stroking a finger down Bilbo’s nose, which he was afraid was still a bit floury.

 

“I haven’t?” Bilbo asked, puzzled.  Then he realised.  “Oh!  I haven’t!”  He paused.  “Truly, it need not be...”

 

“It need not,” Kili said, then grinned.  “Though I would go as far as you would like.”  Bilbo slapped his shoulder.

 

“Thorin has said he will court me,” he told Kili.

 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Kili said, shrugging.  “Not to Dwarves.  Unless you were nearly done with the courtship, and you haven’t even accepted him, have you?”

 

“I told him...” Bilbo thought for a moment.  “I suppose I didn’t tell him anything.  I never gave him an answer.”

 

“Well, then?” Kili said.  “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“I must think on it,” Bilbo said.  “I will tell you when I decide.”  Kili’s smile glowed bright, and Bilbo could only smile back to see it, though his own smile was shy.

 

Bilbo picked up the bucket of water again and retreated behind the tapestry curtain into his room.  As he stripped off his floury clothing and dropped it to the floor, he did think about it—about _celebrating._   He remembered the terribly hurt look on Bofur’s face when Bilbo told him no, and how disappointed Ori had been, and of course Kili’s persistence...If it need not be what he had shared with Thorin, or he had seen Thorin sharing with Dwalin...He frowned and wished he hadn’t thought of Thorin and Dwalin together.  Resolutely he went back to considering Kili’s words.  _Celebration is about closeness, and bonding together, and there are ways to do that without...without the other.  Simply kissing, or embracing, or even sitting together in private to speak about what one has meant to the other_ , he had said. 

 

He was as close to these Dwarves as he was to his family; in some ways, he was closer to them.  He would do it. 

 

Immediately he felt a little queasy.

 

After he had washed his clothing and laid it out along the hall to dry, Bilbo wrapped himself in a blanket and walked to the Dwarves gathered by the fire.  He nodded to some as he passed, but did not stop to talk.  He would lose his courage if he didn’t speak first to Kili.

 

Kili and Fili were sitting against the wall, teasing Ori; but Kili fell silent as he saw Bilbo approach.  Bilbo stood in front of him for a minute, and he knew he was red as a cherry from the tips of his ears to his toes.  Fili and Ori became quiet as well, puzzled expressions on their faces.  Kili stood, and tilted Bilbo’s face up to meet his eyes.  Bilbo bit his lip, and nodded.  Kili whooped, and picked Bilbo up and spun him around while Bilbo sputtered and tried not to lose his blanket.  Shifting his grip so that he carried Bilbo like a bride, Kili began to carry him back to his room.

 

“What on...Where are you going?” Fili asked.  Kili spun back around, his smile wicked, and Bilbo blushed even redder.

 

“Celebrating!” Kili crowed, and hurried Bilbo past the gaping Dwarves to his room.  He didn’t set Bilbo down until he had ducked underneath the tapestry door, and even then, he held him tight in his arms.  Bilbo pushed back far enough to be able to see Kili’s face.

 

“What now?” he asked.  Kili ran a hand through Bilbo’s damp curls.

 

“Whatever you would like,” he answered.  Bilbo nodded decisively.

 

“Then I would like to say that you are a very admirable Dwarf, and a good friend, and an amazing archer, and I enjoy your high spirits and your good humour very much,” he said.  For a moment, they stood together, as Bilbo shyly met Kili’s smiling eyes.  “What would you like?” Bilbo asked after a while.

 

“You are the most interesting Hobbit in all of Middle Earth,” Kili said.  “You are valiant, and clever, and handsome, and always kind to me, and you make me laugh.  And I would like to rub your feet.”

 

“Rub my...” Bilbo sputtered.

 

“Rub your feet,” Kili repeated.  “Touch them with my hands.”  Bilbo should have known this was a mistake.  _What a strange request!_   But Kili had asked, and it wasn’t, after all, too terribly intimate...  Bilbo huffed, but he nodded.  Kili smiled again, and gently tapped the tip of Bilbo’s nose.

 

“Lie down,” he directed.  “Front or back, it doesn’t matter.”  Tentatively, Bilbo lay down on his pallet, on his back, and Kili sat by his feet.  “Close your eyes,” Kili suggested, as he picked up one of Bilbo’s feet and began to massage it firmly in his hands.  _Oh_ , Bilbo thought, _this isn’t bad at all.  This is rather nice_.  He closed his eyes and rested on the bed as Kili slowly worked out any tenseness in his feet.  It was rather shocking how relaxed that simple touch made Bilbo’s entire body.  It was simply lovely.  _It was like laying in a sunny meadow on a warm summer’s day, with luncheon right behind him and teatime round the corner.  It was like a cosy feather bed and hot cocoa on a rainy autumn morning._   Kili put down the first foot, and picked up the other, and Bilbo let himself simply float on the feeling of Kili’s strong hands on his feet.  He never wanted to move again, only lie there with Kili’s hands on his foot.  Though he supposed at some point he would want to eat.  _Maybe one of the other Dwarves would deliver breakfast to his new room?  It would just be porridge anyway, not really worth getting up for_...

 

Bilbo had lost all track of time when Kili’s touches on his second foot slowed and grew lighter.  They were just this side of ticklish, especially as his fingers began to card through the tufts of hair on the top of his foot, and drag gently along the side.  These touches were less relaxing and more...Bilbo didn’t know.  More something else.  He felt...not tense, but...anticipating, he supposed.  He waited impatiently to see what each new touch would be.  When Kili switched back to his first foot with the same type of touches, Bilbo was rather ashamed to realise that he was humming.  He stopped abruptly.

 

“Don’t stop,” Kili said.  “I want you to feel happy and comfortable.  I want you to feel pleasure.”  And he brought Bilbo’s foot to his mouth and nibbled the pad of it, and kissed the arch in the middle, and then sucked and nibbled on Bilbo’s toes; and Bilbo moaned.  This touch was not relaxing and it didn’t spread through his whole body; it was centred in his cock, which was beginning to jump and twitch from the little lightning shocks of it.

 

“Kili!” Bilbo moaned—he was ashamed to say it, but it was most certainly a moan.  “That is not your hands!”

 

“Does it feel good?” Kili murmured against the base of his foot.  “Do you want me to stop?”  He moved to the other foot, and Bilbo gasped to feel Kili’s mouth on his toes again.

 

“It’s a bit intimate, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked weakly.

 

“Perhaps,” Kili replied, nuzzling into the hair topping this foot, and then blowing on it gently, and then—aah! back to sucking on his toes before lifting his head to speak.  “If you would let me, my mouth would be on your cock.  So it’s all relative, I think.”

 

“Oooh,” Bilbo moaned, a long, drawn-out sound.  His foot twitched against one particularly light touch.  “That tickles,” he complained.

 

“My apologies,” Kili chuckled gently.  Bilbo cracked his eyes open to look at Kili, and _Oh!  That was a mistake._   Kili’s eyes were fluttering shut, and his expressive face was so wanton, and then he opened his eyes to see that Bilbo was watching, and his eyes—and his mouth—  Kili smiled at him and lifted Bilbo’s leg higher and began to slowly kiss his way up Bilbo’s ankle, and then his calf, and Bilbo came to his senses.  He jerked his leg away.

 

“That’s quite enough!” he scolded.  “You should be ashamed of yourself.”  Kili continued to smile and shook his head.

 

“There’s no shame in this,” he said.  “I am only sorry you made me stop.”  He leant forward and gently traced Bilbo’s lips with his fingertip.  “And I would steal a kiss too, before I go, if you will let me.”  Bilbo looked at Kili’s mouth, and for one moment he was tempted...but he would not.  He firmly bundled Kili out of the room.  Kili seemed completely undaunted.

 

“Thank you, Bilbo,” he said.  “You have made me very happy.”  Bilbo blushed again, and Kili darted in quickly to steal that kiss after all, and Bilbo pushed him away.

 

“Behave yourself,” he admonished.  Kili grinned.

 

“Why start now?” he asked, and he walked back down to the fire, whistling. 

 

Bilbo watched him go, and then realised that near the entire Company was not gathered by the fire as usual but scattered around the hall near his alcove so that they must have witnessed the entire goodbye.  His face went red again; he thought Fili might even be close enough to have heard his gasps and moans.  Further down the hall, as far as he could be without being out of sight, Thorin stood with furrowed brow; and in between Bilbo saw Company members tossing little money bags—bets, likely; Dwarves bet on everything—to each other.  Bilbo spun and hid behind his tapestry curtain.  But the memory of Thorin’s frown was immediately overcome when he looked at his rumpled bed, where Kili had knelt with his mouth on Bilbo’s feet.  A shock of arousal hit him, and his cock twitched.  _Oh stars_ , Bilbo thought.  _How will I ever look him in the face again?_

 

Just outside his door, Bilbo heard Fili’s voice, almost sing-song as he called his name.

 

“Oh, Bil-bo!” he sang.  His voice went low and sultry.  “Tomorrow—I want your hands.  My hands and my mouth on your hands.”  Bilbo gasped and pictured it and felt his cock twitch again.  _Sun and the moon and the stars above_ , he thought.  _What have I gotten myself into?_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flowers in Thorin and Bilbo's wedding wreaths: columbine represents folly; convolvulus major, extinguished hopes; and yellow tulips, hopeless love.


	5. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only Hobbits want to clean a kitchen left dirty for over a century. Bilbo and Fili celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SQUEEING WITH EXCITEMENT--Sra_Danvers commissioned art for this chapter--Bilbo and Fili celebrating! By DWARFSMUT!! 
> 
> It's PRETTY. VERY VERY PRETTY. Thank you Sra_Danvers and Dwarfsmut; thank you SO SO MUCH.

 

The next morning at breakfast, none of the Dwarves made any comments to Bilbo, and he determinedly kept any conversation focused on yesterday’s progress and the anticipated repairs of the day.  He did notice several of the Dwarves seemed to smile especially warmly at him, Fili in particular.  Bilbo could not meet Fili’s eyes for blushing.  And Kili—his eyes went from Bilbo’s head to his feet, and he grinned that wicked grin, and then he met Bilbo’s eyes again—but whatever he saw there made him laugh.  He hugged Bilbo’s shoulders.

 

“Friends, hmm?” he asked.

 

“Friends,” Bilbo said agreeably.  “But keep that mouth to yourself.”  Kili chuckled and moved away to seek out his breakfast.

 

Thorin, Bilbo saw, was still glowering.  _It’s his stupid Dwarven tradition_ , Bilbo thought.  _He can just take his scowl and shove it in Dwalin’s mouth.  Apparently it’s fine for him to put his cock in there and to do who knows what with everyone else in the Company, but Kili can’t even touch my feet without our garnering his disapproval_.  Bilbo turned up his nose, ate his porridge—awful porridge, _again_ —and went to get his bucket of water.  He had a floury kitchen to clean.

 

Bilbo was a mess again—and sneezing too, it was astonishing how much mold can grow in a place given so many years to do it—as he dragged back up at the end of the day, but he had made good progress; an entire wall of upper cabinets was emptied and cleaned, and he had found a broom!  In the Shire, a broom would have been made of wood and straw; but this Dwarven broom was strangely constructed out of metal, the bristles a fine and almost soft wire.  So he had been able to sweep all the flour into a pile, which he scooped up into a bin.  He would need someone’s help tomorrow to empty the bin, he thought; it was quite full and a bit too big for him to drag it to the upper hall.

 

When he arrived, he was happy to see a bucket of water already warming by the fire that Bombur said was for him.

 

“Thank you, Bombur,” Bilbo said.  “That was thoughtful of you.”

 

“’Twasn’t me, ‘twas Fili,” Bombur told him, gesturing to where the young Dwarf stood.  Bilbo turned to look, and saw that Fili was looking back, and his smile— _These Dwarves will be the death of me_ , he thought.  _But who knows how many will want to do this with me in the end?  And I suspect Kili and Fili will be the worst._   Bilbo turned his back on Fili and picked up his bucket of water and went to his room to wash.  He thought Fili’s laughter followed him down the hall.

 

After dinner, Fili and his suggestive grin had just appeared by Bilbo’s side when Thorin approached him.  He took Bilbo’s hand gently.

 

“Bilbo, you do not have to do anything you have been pressured or forced into, or feel uncomfortable with,” Thorin said.  “No one expects you to sacrifice your Hobbit sensibilities.”

 

“You certainly had no trouble doing so,” Bilbo replied tartly.

 

“I thought you regretted nothing of that night,” Thorin chided, his hands moving to Bilbo’s shoulders.

 

“Not until I saw you and Dwalin,” Bilbo agreed.  “But I regret nothing from last night either.”  He lifted his hands to cup Thorin’s face.  “I want to do this, for myself, and for my friends.  Does it bother you so much?”

 

“I do not share well,” Thorin said, and Bilbo would have said he was sulking if Thorin’s dignity would have allowed such a thing.  “I thought Hobbit courting would not allow this.”

 

“My understanding is that Dwarven courting would,” Bilbo said, and Thorin nodded grudgingly.  “Nor I have agreed to courting yet,” he added, and Thorin’s scowl came back darker than ever; but Bilbo turned to Fili, and took his arm, and allowed Fili to lead him down the hall to Bilbo’s room.

 

His irritation with Thorin was quickly subsumed by nervousness when he and Fili ducked into his little alcove.  Bilbo turned to look at Fili, biting his lip.

 

“Is it—Do you truly want what you said yesterday?” he asked.  “My—my hands?”  Fili took Bilbo’s hands and brought them to his mouth, but rather than rub or kiss them, he took Bilbo’s index finger all the way into his mouth and sucked on it so _suggestively_ , then drew back, scraping his teeth gently along Bilbo’s finger as he did.

 

“I do,” Fili said, his voice low.  “I am like Kili; I want as much as you would give me; but I will take what I can get.  And I—“ he punctuated this by sucking the next finger into his mouth, “want—“ and then again, the next, “your hands.”  And then Bilbo’s little finger was in his mouth, and his tongue swirled around it, and—

 

“Oh my stars,” Bilbo whispered.  “I need to lie down.”  Fili laughed and drew him down onto the bed, until they sat facing each other, Bilbo’s hands in Fili’s.  But Fili retreated a bit now, dropping Bilbo’s left hand to bring both of his hands to Bilbo’s right hand and begin to massage gently.  Bilbo closed his eyes and drifted on the sensation.

 

It was like his feet in this; as the tension left his hands, it slid away from the rest of his body as well, until Bilbo felt his head hang forward sleepily.

 

“Lie down,” Fili urged him, and Bilbo did, and Fili moved to using his mouth, kissing and nibbling and licking and _ooh_ , sucking; and Bilbo had to fight to hold back his moans.  He became aware that his hips were rocking gently when Fili crossed to the other side of Bilbo’s body, his weight briefly laying on Bilbo.  Bilbo couldn’t help it; he bucked up and moaned loudly as Fili brushed against his cock as he did.  _Oh stars and comets_ , Bilbo thought.  _I’m erect_.  He bit his lip and tried to stop his rocking.  Fili leant down to speak low in Bilbo’s ear.

 

“Let me hear you,” he whispered.  “I want to hear every sweet sound you make.  I want to swallow them down with my mouth.  I want my mouth everywhere on your body.  _Everywhere_.  I will take your hands only; but please—let me hear you, Bilbo.”

 

“F-f-Fili!  Oh!” Bilbo gasped.  Fili took a finger—two fingers—into his mouth again, and licked up the crease between them.  He was _filthy_.  “Oh,” Bilbo moaned.  “Oh—Fili—Oh—”  He did as Fili asked and held his reactions back no longer.

 

Fili left Bilbo lying in a puddle on his bed, after Bilbo allowed him to steal the kiss Kili had asked for, and it was a rather more involved kiss than the one Kili had stolen.

 

“W—wait,” Bilbo gasped as Fili stood to leave.  “What—“ he swallowed nervously.  “What about you?”

 

Fili looked down at him, then sunk to his knees and took Bilbo’s hand in his and lifted it to his mouth again—that _mouth_ —and nibbled gently on Bilbo’s fingers.

 

“Whatever you would like, Bilbo,” he said.  His eyes were so intense on Bilbo’s.  “Anything and everything you would give me.”

 

“Hands,” Bilbo said.  “I want—I will—your hands.”  Bilbo had not thought it was possible for Fili’s eyes to darken any further, but they did.

 

“Yes,” he groaned, and Bilbo brought the hand that did not hold his own already to his mouth.

 

Fili did not try to hold in any sounds he made, not one.  Soon enough he and Bilbo were lying side by side, each with a mouth to the other’s hand, bodies close enough to move gently against each other.

 

“Bilbo,” Fili moaned after a time.  “I want to touch you.  Please let me.  _Please_.”  Bilbo was so far gone that he thought about it, but—he was not yet so lost to himself that he allowed it.

 

“No,” he said, and shook his head as well.  “But...”

 

“Yes?” Fili asked.  Bilbo hardly recognised himself.  He could not believe he was about to say—

 

“Touch yourself,” he whispered to Fili.  “You may touch yourself.”  Fili closed his eyes and threw his head back, and his hips bucked hard against Bilbo’s.

 

“Ah, Bilbo,” he moaned.  “You are so much more than I dreamt.  And I did dream of you, those days when I anticipated celebrating with you.”  With a last kiss, he released Bilbo’s hand and slipped his own under his loosened laces.  Bilbo watched the cloth moving over his hand breathlessly.  Up, down, circling...  Bilbo panted, and met Fili’s eyes, and drew Fili’s fingers sloppily into his mouth again, as many as he could fit.  Fili moaned again.

 

“Will you place your hand over mine?” he asked breathlessly.  “So that you feel how it is moving on my own body?  Through the cloth, even—“  Bilbo drew his mouth back on Fili’s hand...and then sunk down on Fili’s fingers again as his other hand slid lower to rest on the cloth covering Fili’s hand, the hand that moved on his cock.

 

“Ah—ah—ah—“ Fili panted.  “Bilbo!” he cried, and bucked hard several times, and then— _oh, stars_ —he came.  He rolled onto his back, panting, and Bilbo drew back on his hand and then sucked his fingers into his mouth again.  “Bilbo,” Fili growled, and rolled on top of him and kissed him again and again.  “Let me,” he pleaded.  “Oh, Mahal, Bilbo, I want to watch you writhe underneath me and hear you scream my name.  Let me.  _Let me_.”

 

“No,” Bilbo replied shakily, but he brought his hands to Fili’s face and kissed him deeply again.  Fili lifted his head and opened his mouth again, but Bilbo put his finger to Fili’s lips.  “No,” he said, a bit stronger, and then kissed Fili again, more gently now, and gently again, and gradually pulled them back from the edge Fili had nearly dragged him over, until Fili only lay smiling down on him.  Bilbo couldn’t help bucking up against Fili’s weight a little, but it was only a little.  He reached up to kiss the tip of Fili’s nose.  “Thank you,” he said, and gently pushed at Fili’s shoulders until he rolled off of Bilbo.  Fili kissed him one last time, then stood and went to leave again.  At the tapestry, he paused to look back at Bilbo.

 

“Will you touch yourself, after I go?” he asked.  “Will you think of me when you do?”

 

Bilbo bit his lip.  “Yes,” he whispered.  “And yes.”  Fili’s eyes darkened.

 

“Good,” he said.  “I will be thinking on it.”  And he left Bilbo’s room, and Bilbo did as he had said he would—touched himself, as he thought of Fili’s mouth on his hands...and Kili’s mouth on his feet, too, and then— _I want my mouth everywhere on your body_ , Fili had said. _Everywhere_.  Bilbo thought of that too—of _both_ of those mouths, everywhere on his body.

 

_Valar_ , he thought when he was done.  _I will be completely lost if it continues this way._  But it wouldn’t.  Fili and Kili were the worst, he was sure of it—  _Oh stars!_ he thought, as desire shot through his body _again_ at the thought of them.  They would be the worst.  No other member of the Company, save Thorin himself, would be so hard to deny.  He told himself that as he rolled over to go to sleep, and then Bofur’s face rose up before his mind’s eye, so sad his eyes had been where usually they were so merry, when Bilbo told him no...

 

and that moustache, and what on Middle Earth could be under that hat...

 

 _Oh stars_ , Bilbo thought.  _Stars and comets_.  He sighed and tried to go to sleep.

 

***

 

Bilbo blushed as he asked Fili and Kili to help him bring the refuse from the kitchens up to be dealt with that morning, but though both smiled widely at him, they were perfect gentledwarves all the way to the kitchen and then back up to the hall.  It was only as Bilbo turned to drag the empty bin back down to the kitchen that Fili placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

 

“Did you, Bilbo?” he asked, his voice low.  “Shall I tell you how I thought of you?”  A shock of arousal leapt through Bilbo’s body.

 

“Most certainly not,” he said crossly, but as he left the hall he looked back; and Fili and Kili were still watching him.  Fili laughed merrily to see him do it, and Bilbo scowled as he turned back to the kitchen.  _Dwarflings_ , he told himself.  _But you did not think of them as Dwarflings last night, or the night before_ , he remembered unwillingly.  _Oh stars above, what am I to do?_

 

He threw himself into cleaning the kitchen, and was just pulling a stack of lovely copper pots out from a lower cabinet when he heard a sound behind him.  He sat up to see Ori hovering in the door.

 

“Bard is here,” he told Bilbo.  “Thorin sent me to get you.  It’s lunchtime, anyway.”

 

“I brought some _cram_ down,” Bilbo replied.  “But I will come with you to see Bard.”  He dusted his hands off and followed Ori out of the kitchen.  Several times Ori seemed to be gathering his courage to speak, but each time he stopped himself.  Finally Bilbo patted his hand.

 

“What is it?” he asked Ori.  “You know you can tell me.”  Ori nodded, and drew in a breath.

 

“WefoundthelibrarytwodaysagoandIwonderedifyouwouldcomeseeitwithme,” Ori muttered.  Bilbo blinked.  “Tonight.  After dinner,” Ori added more slowly.  Bilbo ran Ori’s words through his head again.  _Oh_!

 

“I will,” Bilbo replied.  “I am quite excited!  The library of Erebor!”  Ori smiled brightly at him.

 

“I know!” he exclaimed.  “Dori had to drag me out of it.”  They chatted happily about the library all the way back up to the hall, where Bard and Thorin were talking stiffly by the fire with a small group of Men uncomfortably fidgeting nearby, as the Dwarves of the Company ranged around them, glaring.  Bilbo took in the tense situation, said goodbye to Ori, and hurried over to greet Bard.  It would not do to have another war when the battlefield was just barely cleared of the first one.

 


	6. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is provoked.

 

Thorin watched fondly as Bilbo hurried over.  He had cobwebs clinging to his curls and dust on his nose.

 

“Bard!  Good day,” he said.  “What brings you to the Lonely Mountain?”  Bard looked sternly at Thorin before he bowed briefly to Bilbo.

 

“You left Dale under duress,” he said.  “I allowed the Dwarves to take you, as they claimed you had merely had a misunderstanding and did not mean to leave permanently, but I have come to ensure you stay only if you want to.”  Thorin bristled.  Bard might have _tried_ to take Bilbo, but he would only have spilled more of his Men’s blood on the rocks of Erebor if he did.

 

“It was indeed a foolish misunderstanding,” Bilbo assured him.  “I have agreed to postpone my return to the Shire until the spring.”  Thorin took Bilbo’s hand, caressing it gently before bringing it to his lips.

 

“I have hope we will yet be able to convince you to stay,” he said easily.  Thorin was quite pleased with the results of his teasing:  Bilbo’s cheeks grew pink.

 

“Yes, Bilbo,” Fili agreed.

 

“Stay,” Kili added, his voice sultry.  Bilbo’s blush spread to the tips of his ears.  Thorin watched disbelievingly, then turned to stare at his nephews.  Fili raised an eyebrow, _the insolent pup_ , and Kili tried to look innocent, _as if he ever was_.  What did they _do_ , celebrating with Bilbo?  Thorin fumed.  But he would set it from his mind.  He had had Bilbo first and he had kept him all night; and it was, after all, a time for celebration; there would be more Dwarves celebrating with Bilbo before it was done, and he must not begrudge them their time with his burglar.

 

He told himself that again as he watched Bilbo disappear with Ori after dinner, and again as he returned holding hands with him, his face as pink as tourmaline, his lips swollen, and a bruise on his neck not quite covered by his cravat...  Thorin stalked to his room and closed the door behind him.  _Why does it matter?_ he asked himself.  _He only celebrates.  While I am fond of Bilbo, I seek to marry him only to reclaim my honour._   Nevertheless he threw himself on the bed and took himself in hand, imagining himself biting and licking and replacing every bruise Ori might have left on Bilbo’s body with one of his own.  _How far do they go?_ he wondered, vexed.  _How low?_   In his mind, Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s head in his soft hands, decisively yanked him within reach, and bit down on Thorin’s neck to mark him just where Ori had left a mark on Bilbo.  Thorin gave one last twist and came with a groan.  He gasped and wiped his hand on his dusty shirt and listened to his own harsh breath.  _I have gone mad_ , he thought.  _I have wanted him since the beginning, but I was able to resist all this time.  And now I had only to think for one moment that he belonged to me to lose my mind._

 

Before Bard left the next morning, Thorin pulled one of his Men aside.

 

“I seek flowers, though I know they are scarce in winter,” he said.  “Is such a thing possible?”  The Man frowned, and then nodded.

 

“My wife has some bulbs she didn’t plant this fall,” he said.  “Would those do?”

 

“I don’t know,” Thorin answered.  “They grow into flowers?”  The Man laughed, and Thorin frowned at him.

 

“Aye,” he said.  “Paperwhites and daffodils and tulips.  Mayhap she has hyacinth and jonquil too.”

 

“That means nothing to me,” Thorin growled, but the Man only grinned.  “I will buy them all from you, if you can also bring me instructions and any supplies I might need.”  He handed the Man a small purse, and when he looked inside the Man’s eyes grew wide.

 

“I’ll bring them myself,” he said, “and everything you need.  I’ll pack it all up and bring the lot back as soon as can be.”

 

“How long?” Thorin asked.

 

“A week back home, another back:  so a fortnight of travel, and perhaps another fortnight for paperwhites and daffs to bloom.  A bit longer for the rest.  Tulips will take a while.”  Thorin sighed.  A month.  A month before he gave Bilbo flowers.  Still, it was more than he had before.

 

“I thank you,” he told the Man.  “I would ask that you keep this commission secret.  I seek to surprise the Hobbit, so far away from his blooming Shire.”  The Man smiled knowingly at Thorin, who gritted his teeth but did not strike him no matter how smug he looked.  This Man would be the means by which he could provide flowers for their burglar, and that was the first step to regaining his honour.  Thorin waved him away, and he joined the rest of the Men as they took their leave.

 

Thorin was able to lose himself in his work the rest of the day and watch Bilbo disappear into his room with Óin with equanimity.  As he escorted Óin out an hour later, Bilbo was indeed red as a ruby; but Thorin suspected their time together had been much like his own with Óin:  embarrassingly thorough questions regarding his carnal activities and how well the necessary organs were functioning, and in addition an off-putting description of various symptoms of diseases spread in these ways and their complications and treatments.  Thorin suspected Óin quite enjoyed making everyone uncomfortable and nervous for the rest of their celebrations.

 

The following night was more provoking, to watch Nori strut behind Bilbo to that tapestry—that tapestry which only muffled noise rather than block it out completely—for Thorin was not sure what they did (Nori was rumoured to be _creative_ , and Thorin had certainly found him so); but Bilbo’s voice did sound waveringly down the hall, and then _Nori_ wailed.  He had made no such sounds for Thorin.  Nori was notoriously _silent_ while celebrating.  Thorin rose from his seat by the fire with dignity, walked calmly to his room and through the door, and closed it carefully.  Then he opened it again and slammed it shut with every bit of force he could summon.  He knew the Company would be laughing at him out there, but he could not stop himself.  _What were they **doing** in there?_

 

He lay on his bed, wondering, imagining, until he had to strip his clothes off and touch himself again while he thought about Bilbo doing a multitude of creative things with _him_ , to _his_ body, and he doing the same to Bilbo.  _I may not make it through Bilbo’s celebrations_ , he thought with some dismay. _I am losing my mind._   But then he thought on the remainder of the Company:  Bofur, Bifur, Dori, Balin.  None was cause for worry.  Dwalin, though...he thought on what Dwalin liked to do, and him doing it to Bilbo, and he ground his teeth together.  He would suffer through that one night.  The rest would be easy.

 

Bilbo continued his silly work in the kitchens; Thorin could not begin to imagine what he did each day that he came back such a disaster each evening, but each was worst than the last—though none was as bad as that first day, when he had been covered in flour from head to toe.  Each day he came back to a bucket of water warming by the fire (Thorin knew not where it came from, but each evening it appeared from nowhere).  Happily he carried it off to his little room and emerged later glowing and damp and clean.  And then after dinner, a different member of the Company followed Bilbo off to his room.

 

Balin, when his turn came, gave Thorin no cause for concern.  Balin would likely want only to sit close and tell Bilbo stories of Erebor as it had been and would be again.  He worried briefly about Bifur, Bifur could be _enthusiastic_ ; but then Bombur lumbered to his feet to join him, and when they exited Bilbo’s room some several hours later, Bilbo signed _Thank you_ to Bifur in Iglishmêk, and _Teach again little time_.  Dori...Dori was a bit of a dark horse.  He seemed fussy—but Bilbo was sometimes fussy, and he cared about unimportant things like tea and the colours of one’s clothing—but Bilbo seemed to care about those things as well...  Nevertheless Thorin did not worry.  He retired to his room that night confident that nothing was happening that he would mind, only to wake and rise to break his fast and discover his Company gossiping like merchants only to fall silent as Thorin left his room.

 

Dori sat in the midst of them, not a hair out of place in his perfect, intricate braids, smug as a Dragon on his treasure.  Bilbo kept looking at him, and blushing, and looking away, and then looking back.  Thorin had made a mistake; clearly he _did_ have to worry about Dori; but it was over and done with now.  There was nothing he could have done to prevent it anyway. _Celebrations are for all Dwarves_ , he reminded himself sternly.  _They bring us together with bonds of love and affection and camaraderie, that we might know each other well, and share the joys of our bodies with each other._   He had always believed it before.  He would believe it now.

 

He looked at the Dwarves gathered by the fire, chatting and laughing, and felt that camaraderie rise within himself.  These had been his companions, following him without question through every trial including his own fall to madness in his search for the Arkenstone; and they stood beside him now as they began to rebuild Erebor into the glorious and imposing city she once had been, the jewel of seven Dwarven kingdoms.  He had shared everything with them, and he had taken pleasure in their bodies as they had in his.  He was happy for it.  And Bilbo had been there with them, from the first night they gathered in his Hobbit hole until this moment, staying with them despite Thorin putting him through terrible danger and pain.  Bilbo deserved to share in these joys and these pleasures as well.

 

Dwalin laughed his booming laugh at something Bofur said, and Thorin set his jaw and told himself that again.  He would continue to think it until he believed it.

 

 


	7. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's been looking forward to this.

 

Bilbo could not stop stealing glances at Dori.  _The things he can do with that hair_ , he marvelled.  Bilbo could never have imagined.  But then he realised that Thorin had emerged, and Bilbo jumped up to speak with him.  Today he was sure he would finish cleaning the kitchens.  He approached Thorin, a bright smile on his face.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted Thorin happily, and Thorin left off scowling at some of the Company to smile back at him.  “Did you rest well?”

 

“Better than I should have,” Thorin said wryly, his eyes flickering to the Dwarves by the fire.  “How may I serve you, my burglar?”  Bilbo blushed.  He knew Thorin did not love him; Thorin admitted to it; but he made love convincingly well.

 

“I should like to negotiate with the Men for more foodstuffs,” Bilbo said.  “We have dwindling supplies, and they are very limited in scope.  I am sick of porridge and _cram_ and thin gruel with almost no meat.  And I am nearly done with the kitchens, so we will be ready for any food the Men can provide us.”  But Thorin shook his head.

 

“We must concentrate our priorities first on Erebor,” he told Bilbo.  “We cannot spare the resources from rebuilding.”

 

“It will take hardly any resources,” Bilbo protested.  “You have far too much gold, and we can require the Men to deliver their goods.  All you must do is send a messenger and be prepared to sit and negotiate.  Or make me your agent, and I will do it for you, and no Dwarf will be forced to leave his labour.”

 

“I am sorry, Bilbo,” Thorin said (rather curtly, Bilbo thought).  And then Dwalin joined them as they argued, and clapped his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

 

“My turn tonight, little burglar,” he said with a bit of a leer, then walked away.  Thorin watched him go, then turned back to Bilbo.

 

“Whatever you want is yours,” he said abruptly.  “Only do not make me sit through any of it.”  Dear Thorin.  Impulsively Bilbo reached up to hug him. 

 

“Thank you,” he cried.  “I will make you so glad you changed your mind!”  _I will make scones and roasts and savoury stews and biscuits and tarts_ , Bilbo thought.  _Breads and vegetable soups and jams.  Maybe the Men can provide eggs!  Custards and omelettes and soufflés..._

 

Thorin’s eyes grew dark, and his voice was a little hoarse when he answered Bilbo.

 

“I will look forward to it,” he said, then bowed over Bilbo’s hand and made his way to the fire for his breakfast.

 

_He must be terribly unhappy with the food as well, only thought he could not admit it,_ Bilbo thought to himself.

 

Bilbo had not allowed himself to think on Dwalin’s hand on his shoulder until he was alone in the kitchens once more, but he was not at all happy at the thought of celebrating with Dwalin.  He knew he would be constantly reminded of how it had felt, to see Dwalin kneeling between Thorin’s strong legs, a look of ecstasy on Thorin’s face...  He would do it, but he could not think he would be comfortable with anything like he had done with any of the others.  He knew the others had shared such things with Thorin as well, but Bilbo had not had to _see_ any of them with Thorin.  _Perhaps he might like to teach me more Iglishmêk_ , Bilbo thought wistfully.  _Or tell me about his travels in the years since he left Erebor.  Yes.  I think that is what I will ask for._   And with that decided, Bilbo put it from his mind and went back to polishing the floor.

 

He tried to smile at Dwalin when the time came to retire after dinner; but he knew it was a thin, wavering thing, hardly a smile at all.  He gestured Dwalin to precede him into his little room; Dwalin quite dominated the small space.  Bilbo turned to face him and squared his shoulders.

 

“I should like—“ he began, but Dwalin interrupted him brusquely.

 

“I want to suck on your staff until you squeal like a stuck Orc,” he said.  “I want to lick your stones and wrap my tongue around the base of your cock and flick it into your slit.  I want to swallow you down until you come down my throat.  And then I want to do it again.”

 

Bilbo took a step back.

 

“You may not,” he said, greatly offended.  “You may not begin to do any of that.  Do not think it.”  Dwalin looked at him for a long time, and Bilbo quavered, but he would not change his mind.

 

“Why not?” he finally asked.  “I don’t know what you’ve done with the others, but we’ve all seen the marks Ori left on you, and I’ve seen you blushing for some of the others—you can hardly look at Fili and Kili anymore without going red—and I know full well the kinds of things Nori likes, and Thorin _told_ me in great detail about what he did to you.  I’ve been looking forward to this since you started.  And I don’t see how I can make it up to you if we don’t.”

 

“Thorin was different,” Bilbo cried.  _The nerve of him_.  “Leave him out of it.  And it doesn’t matter what I did with the others; I will give you only what I feel comfortable with.  My understanding is that this is the way it works.”  Dwalin’s face was grim.

 

“And you don’t feel comfortable doing that with me,” he stated bitterly.  “I don’t expect reciprocation if you don’t like it.”

 

“I’ve only done it once, but I liked it fine,” Bilbo said.  “I won’t do it with _you_.”  Silence fell between them again, and grew until it was an uncomfortable thing, until Bilbo did not know how to break it.

 

“This is about Thorin,” Dwalin finally said.

 

“I said leave him out of it,” Bilbo hissed.  Dwalin leant into his face.

 

“It is,” he told Bilbo.  “It is all about Thorin and none of it about me.”  Bilbo trembled with anger.

 

“Fine!” he shouted.  “Fine!”  He didn’t care if the Dwarves heard him down by the fire.  He didn’t care if the Men in Dale heard him, or the Elves in their Mirkwood.  “It _is_ about Thorin!” he screamed.  “It is about Thorin but it is also about _you_ and about _your_ filthy mouth on the Dwarf I loved and thought loved me!  Do you think you can do those things to me without that image in my mind?  Do you think for one moment I will be able to think of anything else?  It will not bring pleasure between us.  It can only be hurtful to a wound I am trying to heal.”

 

Dwalin turned abruptly and pushed roughly out of Bilbo’s room.  Bilbo looked around for something to throw, but there was nothing properly breakable.  _Damn Dwarves and their metals and jewels,_ Bilbo thought.  _Where is a nice ceramic when you need one?_ He curled up grumpily on his bed. _Celebration indeed._

 

But not ten minutes later, Dwalin was back.  Bilbo sat up and glared at him.

 

“Don’t you knock?” he demanded.

 

“You don’t,” Dwalin returned sharply.  He knelt down next to Bilbo’s bed, though there was nothing he could do so that he did not seem to make the room crowded.  “I’ve told you what I want.  Now I’m going to tell you what I think we need.”  Bilbo jerked his head up, but he stared at the wall rather than look at Dwalin.  One of Dwalin’s hand came to Bilbo’s face, and he gently but firmly turned it until Bilbo was facing him.”  Bilbo glared.  “Do you have anything you want to say first?” Dwalin asked.

 

“I have nothing more to say,” Bilbo said as coolly as he could.

 

“Good,” Dwalin said.  “I want to do all those things to you that I said before.  I want you laid out before me as I kneel between your legs and worship you, and I want _you_ to picture Thorin standing there and watching as you come undone so beautifully.  I think you need to know that he is just down the hall and he is pacing and fretting and jealous because he knows me and he _knows_ what I like and he knows what I want to do to you.”

 

“And I should—What?  Be happy that he wishes he were once more in my place?” Bilbo asked incredulously.  “You are not helping your cause.”

 

“No,” Dwalin growled threateningly.  “You need to know that he wants to be in _my_ place; that he wishes he were here with you, that he will be furious at me and writhing with the need to have it be his mouth on you.  That every time you remember me with him, that you can remember me with you, too, and know that it is just as miserable for him to know that I have been with you as it is for you to know that I have been with him.”

 

“Get out,” Bilbo spat.  Dwalin’s face was furious but he got up and went.  Bilbo thought about it:  about the memory of it, the shock and pain of seeing Thorin spread out before Dwalin like a feast, and placing against that another memory: one that he suspected would be of great physical pleasure, but also vengefulness—and perhaps a shift in power between Thorin and him, and Dwalin too.  Of the possibility of hurting Thorin the way he had been hurt.  _He knows what you do here,_ Bilbo told himself.  _It is a long practiced tradition of his people.  He will not truly be jealous or hurt._   He thought about it some more. _I do not love you...  I do not like to share...  From what you said, he’s a sweet little morsel...  I believe you were occupied before the Hobbit interrupted..._   He stood up and stormed out of his room and halfway down the hall.

 

“Dwalin!” he yelled.  Stiffly Dwalin turned from where he stood by the fire to look at Bilbo.  _Next to Thorin_ , Bilbo noted.  **_Good_** _._   “Get back here!” he shouted, and turned and went back into his alcove.  He stripped off his clothes and was lying on his bed when Dwalin came to him.

 

“I want it,” Bilbo told him.  “Everything you said.  Every bit.  And if I balk, I want you to remind me how much Thorin is hating it.”

 

Dwalin smiled then, and knelt at the end of Bilbo’s bed and pushed his knees apart; and he did make Bilbo scream, and cry; and if in the beginning he was screaming Thorin’s name, by the end it was Dwalin’s name on his tongue.

 

And then after a short time for Bilbo to catch his breath, he did it again.  And _again._

 

The next morning Thorin did not speak to him or to Dwalin.  Bilbo was at a bit of a loss, but he thought Dwalin was right:  it had helped him.  It had been overwhelming, but it had been a purely physical pleasure, not at all like the night he had spent in Thorin’s arms.  And it had, if not put things exactly right between him and Dwalin, at least given them a way past Bilbo’s resentment and Dwalin’s guilt.  It was not a particularly Hobbity way of solving a problem, but Bilbo was beginning to think that he wasn’t a particularly Hobbity Hobbit.  Not anymore.

 


	8. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's last day to celebrate.

 

Short of watching his people flee Erebor and his grandfather beheaded at Azanulbizar, short of his father’s disappearance and brother’s death and realising how low he had sunk in his gold madness, short of only a handful of events in his long and painful life, was hearing Bilbo’s voice rasping as he screamed Dwalin’s name again and again—so loud, so _desperate_...  Although Thorin had not known it at the time, Bilbo had been virginal when he came to his bed, though oh so eager; but Thorin had learnt it soon after, and each night as a Dwarf from the Company whittled away for himself a bit more of what Bilbo had previously only shared with Thorin...he had stood it.  He had looked at his selfishness and jealousy, and known it was wrong; but he had acknowledged it and put it aside.  He would share Bilbo with the Company and then it would be over and done and he would court Bilbo—and unlike these shared celebrations, he would be the only one to do it.  Bilbo’s smile and Bilbo’s body and Bilbo’s love would be his again and his alone.

 

Yet Bilbo’s voice echoed in his head, sobbing in rapture, and it was not his name Bilbo called, it was his trusted friend’s.  Thorin could not face him.  He could not look at either of them.  And both Dwalin and Bilbo let him be.  He would be able to get past it eventually.

 

That night, the last night of Bilbo’s celebrations, Thorin felt a relieved fatigue.  Bofur had gone with a smile and a jaunty wave, and there had been no screaming or moaning or anything of the kind.  It was a great relief.  As the Dwarves around him began to retreat to their bedrolls, Thorin returned to his room.  Bofur had not emerged yet, but he and Bilbo would probably talk late into the night.  They had been great friends almost since the beginning.

 

But the next morning, Bofur’s bedroll lay as it had the night before, rolled up untidily near his brother’s, and Bofur was not to be seen.  All around him the rest of the Dwarves stirred and rose from their beds, and Bofur was not there.  Thorin stared down at Bilbo’s tapestry door as if he could see through it to know what was going on behind it.  And then it lifted.

 

Bofur came out, braids akimbo, smiling his usual smile, taking joy in everything as he usually did, and Bilbo followed behind him, Bofur’s hat on his head.  Bofur turned around and took Bilbo into his arms and smiled down on him, and Thorin realised for the first time that Bilbo wore nothing but a sheet wound around his body.  Bofur leant down to kiss Bilbo, and Bilbo melted into it, plastering his body indecently to Bofur’s and kissing him with a passion so...  Thorin was not sure his own night with Bilbo touched this.  _Bofur._   Thorin had known he had to worry about Dwalin, but _Bofur_... He watched as Bilbo reached up to take Bofur’s hat off his head and tug it firmly back onto Bofur’s where it belonged, then kiss him again, so...  _Loving.  It was loving._   Bofur held Bilbo’s face in his hands, and kissed him enthusiastically, and strolled away from Bilbo down to the fire as Bilbo watched him go.  Bilbo touched his own lips and smiled fondly and retreated behind the tapestry. _I court him that I might repair my honour,_ Thorin told himself. _I want him and I esteem him only.  This is of no matter to me._

 

At least when Bofur saw Thorin’s face he paled and put his brother between them.  At least there was that.  And now it was over.

 

***

 

Thorin thought at first to send Dwalin and Bofur to Dale for Bilbo’s foodstuffs simply to get them out of his sight, but then he realised that Bilbo would not want to send a list but to go with them instead.  He would not send Bilbo off to Dale with those two; it would likely take a week or a bit more, depending on how quickly Bilbo’s negotiations went, and Thorin would imagine them touching Bilbo in the night every minute they were gone.  If he did not love Bilbo, still he wanted him; and Bilbo had come to him thinking to cleave to him always.  When Thorin thought of it, it seemed the rightful state of things:  he had come to think of Bilbo as his own.

 

_Fili and Kili_ , he thought next; they would be happy to get out of the mountain into the clean winter air, and they liked Bard and of course Bilbo—they liked Bilbo quite a bit, and he them.  And then he remembered:  Thorin had teased Bilbo about remaining in Erebor, and _“Yes, Bilbo,”_ Fili had said, and Kili, _“Stay,”_ and Bilbo had blushed tourmaline pink.  What had _happened_ between Bilbo and his sister-sons behind that guardian tapestry?  Perhaps they liked each other a bit too well for Thorin’s peace while they were gone.

 

Who, then, should he send?  And he was shamed by it, but he thought not of who would protect Bilbo best or would be easiest to spare from the mountain but of who was least likely to have had their hands or mouth on Bilbo’s body or to seek him out again.  _Glóin, of course_ , he decided, _and Bifur or Bombur_ ; so that was who he called to escort Bilbo down the mountain.

 

Bilbo seemed quite happy to go and not care who took him, and Glóin and Bifur seemed not to mind trekking to Dale, nor did anyone question his choice of escort, so that was well.  Thorin was not pleased to see him go, but each day Bilbo was gone from the mountain was another day he could plan out his courtship.  He had anticipated it being easier than this, but how could he have known that Bilbo would agree to celebrate with his Company?  It was wrong and ridiculous of Thorin to be jealous of those who had joined Bilbo in his celebrations, but he had decided that it was good that Bilbo would.  It boded well for him settling into a Dwarvish life, living in a Dwarvish city and surrounded by Dwarvish culture.  And once they were wed, any further celebrations in which Bilbo took part would be far tamer.  Thorin was content that it should be so.

 

While Bilbo was gone, Thorin missed him more than he had thought he would, though they had spent little time together these last days when Bilbo’s evenings had been given to celebrations with the Company.  His days were full as always, but his evenings seemed lonely; and often in the beginning he found himself seeking out a head of dark blond curls before he remembered Bilbo was not with them.  He dealt by asking Dwalin to spar with him after dinner most nights, so that his hours were filled and he went to his bed tired enough to fall asleep quickly.  It had the added advantage of giving Thorin the opportunity to work out some of the frustration and jealousy he still felt for his friend.  Dwalin had put up with his brooding for two nights, and then he had cocked an eyebrow at Thorin.

 

“He may be a sweet little morsel; but he’s a fiery one, too, isn’t he?” Dwalin had asked him, and Thorin had come after him with a roar.  He thought of Dwalin swallowing Bilbo’s cock down his smug throat and it gave additional force to his swings.

 

Most of the rest of the Company, especially the young ones, spent the evenings exploring the new sections of Erebor to which they had opened access.  Thorin chose not to; he knew already the ways of the city, and he was saddened to see everywhere the wreck of what had been.  Sometimes it was difficult for him to see the hope for the mountain’s future when he was surrounded by its dismal ruins.  When Bilbo returned to Erebor, Thorin would show him the city; and he would find joy in his home again as the wonder of it was reflected in his burglar’s eyes.  He would be pleased when Bilbo returned to Erebor.  It would not be many more days now.


	9. Bilbo, Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is pleased as Bilbo returns from his mission in Dale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short as we shift from Bilbo's celebrations to the next part of the story; please bear with me! This is where the chapter had to end, and Bilbo's chapter on Sunday will be more...substantial.

 

For Bilbo, the days of his journey passed quickly.  Bifur taught Bilbo more Iglishmêk when they stopped to camp in the evenings (with Glóin’s help), and continued as they had time and privacy from Men once they reached Dale.  Bard was working hard to restore Dale, but the weather was not always in his favour; and it was on one of these very cold and snowy days that Bilbo arrived in Dale.  Bard greeted him gladly.

 

“I have come on Thorin’s behalf, to negotiate some trade in whatever foodstuffs may be available for you to sell to the Dwarves,” Bilbo explained.  “I am really quite sick of porridge and _cram_.  Please tell me there are some farmers who still have something in their stores.”  Bard laughed bleakly.

 

“There are many,” he told Bilbo.  “The deaths of so many people in Lake-town has meant the local farmers have little market for their wares.  You can likely name your price.”  It was an extraordinarily wretched explanation; the Men were dead so there was no one to eat their food.  Bilbo could never exploit such a situation.

 

“I am sure we will reach a fair agreement,” Bilbo assured him.  “I could not take advantage of your hardship.  Will you loan me a guide?”  Bard directed Bilbo to one of his Men whose brother’s farm was between Dale and Lake-town, so it was there that they began.  It would not be as easy or as quick as Bilbo had imagined, however; there was no market yet in Dale; he must speak to each farmer individually, which meant a great deal of travel from farm to farm.  Bilbo spent a week doing so before he realised he would need to commission an agent among the Men to continue this work on the Dwarves’ behalf.  He went back to Bard.

 

“It is a shame I know this only now,” Bard said, shaking his head.  “The Man I would recommend for it just left for Erebor some days ago, and if I had known to speak to him...”  He shrugged.  “But what’s done is done, and there is only one road up the mountain from Dale.  You will either meet with him in Erebor or meet with him when your paths cross as he returns.”  Bilbo agreed that it was a shame; but he had reached his first agreements with many of the farmers closest to Dale, and shipments of produce and other supplies would leave for Erebor shortly.  And he smiled happily to think of the few things he carried with him back to the mountain:  _Flour and onions and garlic and carrots and potatoes and cheese and salt and pepper and herbs and eggs, glorious eggs!  And **butter**!  _

 

As they began their return journey to the Lonely Mountain, Bilbo dreamt along the way of the things he would make upon his arrival at Erebor.  _Carrot soup.  Roast potatoes.  Caramelized onions with thyme.  Cheese and parsley omelettes.  Carrot-potato puree.  Bread and more bread:  topped with poppy seeds or baked with rosemary inside or simply plain and hot from the oven with a thick pat of butter on it..._   Glóin and Bifur laughed at him, and especially at the care he took with the eggs, but he didn’t care a whit.  The first slice of bread toasted with cheese would change their minds.  _Or roasted garlic mixed with butter.  Or a nice fresh egg, hot from the frying pan..._

 

Towards the end of their first day on the road, they met the Man of whom Bard had spoken.  His sturdy farmhorse pulled a cart behind, and Bilbo wondered what business he had in Erebor but felt it would be rude to ask.  He said his name was Severin, and he was agreeable to serving as Erebor’s agent in securing provisions for the mountain.  He and Bilbo bargained happily for an hour to determine his terms, and he thought Bilbo’s desired goods would not be too hard to procure, so it was a pleased and complacent Hobbit who continued up the mountain.  Bilbo would be so happy to see his friends again, and was so proud of what he had to show them.

 

***Thorin***

 

Thorin met Bilbo at the Gate himself, hurrying up from clearing stone as soon as Balin sent word that they had been spotted.

 

“You are late, Hobbit,” he teased, mock-growling the words and exaggerating his normal scowl.  Bilbo beamed at him, and Thorin smiled back down on him.

 

“I have done so well; you will not believe it!” he cried up to Thorin.  “But I will need help carrying it all up!  And more is soon to be on its way!”

 

_Watch out for the eggs_ , Bifur signed in Iglishmêk.  _Break one at your peril_.

 

_Be quiet, you_ , Bilbo signed back, a cross expression on his face, but then he broke out in a smile again.

 

“I do, I have eggs, Thorin!  And cheese and butter and garlic and onions and—“ he exclaimed.

 

“Hold, Bilbo!” Thorin ordered.  “First, you will come up; and then you may tell me about your very successful mission.”  So Bilbo climbed off his pony and made his slow way up to the top of the Gate, carefully bringing a small parcel with him.

 

“Look,” he exclaimed as soon as he set foot in Erebor proper, and pulled back a cloth to show Thorin a dozen eggs, all nestled in their individual places, and he smiled at him again.  Bilbo’s eyes were bright and his cheeks were red from the cold and— _it will not be a bad thing, to be married to this Hobbit, to have him and hold him always, to be greeted so each day..._

 

“I have missed you, Burglar,” Thorin murmured to him, and stroked his cold cheek.  “I am happier to see you than any egg.”  If Bilbo blushed, Thorin could not tell, his face was already so flushed; but his smile and his eyes softened, and Thorin was reminded of his look when Bilbo had lain beneath him in his bed, such wonder and love in his face, though Thorin had not recognised it at the time. _I was a fool not to see it_ , he thought.  _A fool who missed the shine of mithril for the glitter of fast-tarnishing silver.  I had much more in my bed that night than the joy of two bodies coming together.  If I do not love him, nevertheless it is a great treasure to be loved by one so devoted.  And I **am** very fond of him._

 

Bilbo chattered happily away as Balin began to help Glóin and Bifur bring up Bilbo’s prizes and then as Bifur took the ponies to their sad lean-to; and Thorin listened without paying attention to what Bilbo said, only to the expressions on his face and the satisfaction of having his little burglar at his side once more.  Still his attention was all on Bilbo, so when Kili suddenly ducked around him to sweep Bilbo up off his feet and spin him round, Thorin was surprised by him as well.  Fili was not far behind.

 

“Ware the eggs, you—Dwarfling!” Bilbo cried fussily, and flapped his free hand at Kili, the one that did not clutch the eggs to his chest; but Kili only laughed, and Thorin thought he was just as pleased to see Bilbo again as Thorin himself. 

 

Fili, too:  for, “Give him over, Kili; it’s my turn!” he proclaimed as he grabbed for Bilbo, who continued to shout about eggs and Dwarflings until Kili finally set him down again.  When Fili moved towards him, Bilbo held out his hand firmly to stop him; then he handed the precious eggs to Thorin with a smile and turned back to Fili bashfully, who promptly picked him up and bounced him in his arms while Bilbo bothered and fussed and smiled and laughed too.

 

Indeed, all the Dwarves made much of Bilbo as they came up from their day’s reconstruction work, though none were as exuberant as Fili and Kili, and only the way Bilbo lit up at Bofur’s warm smile and embrace caused Thorin to grit his teeth.  And when Bombur turned to the evening’s thin soup, Bilbo radiated with joy as he dug into his bags and parcels to produce some tubers and other bits and bobs; and Bombur seemed just as pleased to see them.  It was true that the evening meal was vastly improved over what they had been eating, but Bilbo was happy and back under the mountain and that was what Thorin cared for.

 


	10. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili complicates things a little.

 

In the morning Bilbo told Thorin firmly that he could not have Bombur to work on the reconstruction work at all, but Thorin refused him; Bombur was needed for some important work in shoring up the tunnel supports that day.

 

“Perhaps you may have him for part of the day tomorrow,” he told Bilbo.  “For though I am agreeable to having more food and more variety in it as well, repairing the damage Smaug caused is more important.  Soon news of our victory will reach the Ered Luin, and our people will begin to return to our home.  Erebor must be ready.  Every Dwarf’s labour is necessary.”  And no matter how Bilbo pouted and scowled he did not change his mind.

 

So Bilbo lugged his purchases down to the kitchens himself, and contentedly found places for all his various prizes, and began a large pot of potato soup, and frowned to realise he had forgotten yeast so he wouldn’t be able to make bread after all.  He puttered around happily until Ori came down to see him.

 

“Thorin wants to know what happened to lunch?” he asked.

 

“Lunch and all other meals will be served down here from now on,” Bilbo said adamantly.  “In the room just down the way with all the tables and chairs.  By the time you go back to tell them, it will be ready.”  Ori’s eyes widened, but he turned and went, and not long after Bilbo heard the sounds of the Dwarves trooping down his way.  He came to greet them, smiling and waving them in, and saved an especially bright smile for Thorin, who scowled darkly at Bilbo as he marched by though he said nothing.  But though Bilbo might be a Hobbit in a mountain of Dwarves, he was still a Hobbit; and being fed and feeding others properly is important business to a Hobbit.  So he waved them in and fed them as well as he could and then waved them off to work again before turning to clean up the mess.  Dwarves could make an extraordinary mess without trying at all.

 

Within two days Bilbo’s orders began to come to the mountain.  Kili was on watch at the Gate when the very first one arrived, and came running down to tell Bilbo.  Bilbo hurried back to greet the farmer, who had two large carts of goods for Bilbo, and Kili helped him and the farmer bring it all up and into the mountain.  Bilbo handed the Man a list to pass on to Severin when he saw him next:  _yeast, sugar, sausage, parsnips, milk_ —all the things Bilbo had forgotten to tell him before.

 

Kili was ever so pleased to see that this delivery included meat, and he whistled his merry whistle as he helped Bilbo carry everything down to the kitchens.

 

“It’s not been bad so far, Mister Boggins,” he said, “but this is the way to a Dwarf’s heart.  Not that you have too much trouble there.”  He grinned rakishly at Bilbo, who waved him off airily.  Back and forth they trotted, until everything had been moved to the kitchens and Kili said he had to return to his watch.

 

“Just, in a minute,” he told Bilbo.  “There’s something I want to ask you first.”  Bilbo straightened to look at him from where he had been bent over moving another sack of potatoes, and Kili unceremoniously crowded him back against the counter.

 

“Kili!” Bilbo protested, and batted at him.  “I’m a very busy Hobbit today!  Stop your nonsense!”

 

Kili leant into him and ran his nose from Bilbo’s cheek to his temple, and smoothed his way across Bilbo’s forehead with his lips, and then down the other side of his face to the corner of his mouth.  _Oh..._   Bilbo stilled.

 

“My brother says you gave him a kiss, Bilbo,” he murmured, his mouth warm on Bilbo’s skin.  “He says you gave him many, and took them back eagerly; when _I_ had to steal my one sweet peck and run away.”  Bilbo held his breath, and Kili drug his lips from Bilbo’s mouth to hairline, back across his cheek to whisper in his ear.  “I want one of my own, Bilbo, a proper kiss, one that makes you moan against me.”

 

“Kili...” Bilbo whimpered.

 

“I want to breath in your breath with my mouth.  I want our tongues touching and mouths sucking and I want to bite your lip and lick it better,” Kili continued.  “Say I can, Bilbo; say you’ll give it to me.”

 

“You weren’t so expressive before,” Bilbo groused.

 

“I’ve had time to think about it,” Kili answered.  “And maybe Fili described your kisses to me _really well_.”  _How can I do this?_ Bilbo thought, but then Kili lifted his head to look intently into Bilbo’s eyes.  _Oh. **Oh no**.  How can I possibly reject him?_   But he tried once more.

 

“It’s not time to celebrate anymore,” he told Kili weakly.  Kili leant forward and tilted his head until his mouth just brushed against Bilbo’s.

 

“I know,” he whispered, and then his mouth opened on Bilbo’s and Bilbo moaned and kissed him, taking everything Kili gave him and giving it back fully.  All else dropped away but Kili and Kili’s mouth—his sweet, beautiful, demanding mouth.  It was at least a quarter hour before Kili dropped a last buss on Bilbo’s nose and went back to his watch duties, and as for Bilbo—he was frazzled and discombobulated for the remains of the afternoon.  When he saw Kili next, as the Dwarves came down for dinner (and they cheered to see it was a hearty beef stew, so Bilbo was pleased—Kili was clearly right about the meat), Bilbo could not meet his eyes, but he could not look away either; so his gaze flickered back and forth, to him and away, and he hoped no one noticed.  _How could I?_ he thought.  _I love Thorin; truly I do!_   But it had _not_ been fair:  Fili had gone much further than Kili only because Kili laid the groundwork for all that came after.  Bilbo was sure that if Bofur had been the first to celebrate with him and Kili the last it would have been Bofur who had to steal a tiny kiss and Kili who had—had everything.

 

The thought of giving Kili everything made Bilbo’s legs wobbly and he sat on the kitchen floor with his head in his hands.  _Oh, stars._   He _would._   Celebration or not, he would give Kili everything.  Sweet Kili had cajoled and pursued and persisted so charmingly and laughingly until all of Bilbo’s resistance to him was gone.  _He is so young,_ he told himself.  _I don’t think he loves me anymore than I love him._   But that thought made him pause.  Kili, so hopeful he looked when he showed Bilbo the room he thought of and made for Bilbo himself; Kili, spinning him around with a joyful smile; Kili, the tone of his voice when he said, _“Celebrating!”_ or _“Stay,_ ” or _“I want one of my own, Bilbo”_...  Perhaps Kili _did_ love him.  And he...

 

How could he love Kili and Thorin both?  But he did.  Thorin had inspired such longing in him, and shared his dream of regaining his home with him, and gone from dismissing him to valuing him as much as any other of the Company.  He had given his heart to Thorin without ever expecting his love to be returned, and then when he had thought it was...  but that dream had been a mirage, and Bilbo had learnt so quickly enough and in an extraordinarily painful way.  Kili had pursued him and teased him and easily shown his affection.  Though sometimes exasperated by his youth, Bilbo had always been fond of Kili; and Kili had shared his love and himself with Bilbo so openly...

 

Bilbo’s love for these two Dwarves was not the same, but he did not know how to weigh one against the other.

 

***

 

Bilbo stayed away from the restoration and reconstruction work and instead threw himself into his self-assigned roles as quartermaster and chef to the small Dwarven population of Erebor.  _It is much like being the grocer Thorin once accused me of being_ , he thought.  Additionally, it had the benefit of keeping him away from Thorin and Kili both; and although he missed his friends, he missed his equilibrium more. 

 

When he was not busy in the kitchens, he used the chalk Kili had given him to explore further in the surrounding rooms without losing himself on the twining paths of the mountain; the kitchen and dining hall the Company used seemed to be part of a complex of various public spaces.  He found no residences, which were what he hoped for.  Now that they had proper food, Bilbo’s thoughts had turned to beds that were more than folded blankets laid out on cold stone. 

 

In the evenings, he postponed joining the Dwarves as long as he could, and then he clung to Bofur or Bifur or Balin when he was amongst them, and retired to his little alcove as soon as he thought it would not be unduly noted.  He could see that both Thorin and Kili were confused and perhaps a bit hurt by his behaviour, but he did not know what else he could do.  He could not allow Thorin to court him while he was so confused; he didn’t know what inadvisable blunder he might make if it was Kili who asked it of him.

 

But while Thorin seemed content enough to let him do as he wished, Kili only put up with this for a week before he caught Bilbo in his little alcove after all had gone to bed and importuned him.

 

“What are you doing?  Who is on watch?  He must have seen you!” Bilbo hissed.

 

“ _I’m_ on watch,” Kili replied.  “Why have you been avoiding me?”

 

“I haven’t,” Bilbo denied.  _That was feeble_ , he thought peevishly.  **_I_** _wouldn’t believe me._   “Go back to your post.”

 

“After you answer me,” Kili said.  “Why?”  Bilbo hid his face in his hands.

 

“I can’t!” he moaned.  _Stars and comets._

 

“Can’t what?” Kili asked.  He pulled Bilbo’s hands away from his face.  “Tell me, Bilbo.”  Bilbo refused to meet Kili’s eyes.

 

“I’m tired, Kili,” he tried.  “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

 

“No,” Kili replied stubbornly.  “Why do you avoid me?  Did I offend you in some way?”  Bilbo seized it.

 

“Yes, very much so,” he said.  “When you caught me in the kitchen and kissed me.  I was appalled.”  Kili looked searchingly at him for a long time.

 

“You’re lying,” he said with slow realisation.  “Why lie to me?”  His hands slid up Bilbo’s arms to grasp his shoulders.  “Bilbo,” he insisted, and Bilbo made the mistake of meeting his eyes.  Kili searched his visage, and after several long moments a glimmering smile unfurled on Kili’s face.  “ _Bilbo_ ,” he marvelled, and he first kissed the corner of Bilbo’s mouth, almost diffidently, and then again less so, and then his kisses grew to be open-mouthed and insistent.  Bilbo trembled in his arms.  Where he had met Thorin’s avid lust with worshipfulness and Bofur’s tenderness with affection, now with Kili he met adoration with ardour.  It was too late; Kili knew it now.  He could do nothing else.

 

They did not progress far beyond kisses that night; Kili, after all, had to return to his watch.  Bilbo lay awake for a long time after Kili left him.  Must he say something to Thorin?  He believed he owed Thorin nothing, and Thorin owed nothing to him; how could Thorin have made a promise when he didn’t understand it as such?  The ways Dwarves and Hobbits proceeded in these things was too different.  But Thorin _had_ stated his intention to court Bilbo, though he had made no gestures to begin as of yet... 

 

And what of Bilbo, now:  he had lain with Bofur as well, but he did not believe they had promised each other anything beyond the delight of the moment.  How could he cleave to more than one other? _I do not know how to choose,_ he thought.  _But if I must, I believe at this moment I would choose Kili above all.  What a fickle thing I am.  But I think he may love me when Thorin does not, and I am impelled to love him in return._

 

The next morning Kili did not badger Bilbo, but neither did he forget him, only lingered near and smiled affectionately whenever he caught Bilbo’s eye; and before he went off to his work in the tunnels wished Bilbo a good morning in such an intimate tone...  Bilbo forced it from his mind, but to feel so beloved...although he would not moon about, he floated on a swell of contentment through his day.  And after the dinner dishes were done and the Dwarves retired to the hall by the Gate where they yet slept, Kili stealthily drew Bilbo away from the others.

 

“Let me sit by your side at the fire this evening, Bilbo,” he entreated.  “And let me come to you tonight.”  Oh, to be so _wanted_...  Bilbo had to catch his breath.

 

“I will happily sit with you,” he told Kili.  “But tonight—you cannot.  I am not ready for it.”

 

“Aren’t you?” Kili asked winsomely, sliding his hand into Bilbo’s.  “I’ve been ready for a long time.”  Bilbo batted at his arm.

 

“How long could it possibly have been?” he asked exasperatedly.

 

“Since you stood in front of my unconscious uncle with nothing but a letter opener,” Kili answered.  Bilbo looked at him in surprise.

 

“Truly?” he asked.  “I would never have known.  Only this week have I begun to suspect!”

 

“Oh, but you are blind, Mister Boggins,” Kili told him cheerfully.  “You never properly see the way we view you.”

 

Bilbo frowned at him.  “What is that supposed to mean?”  But Kili only shook his head.

 

“Not anything, really,” Kili replied.  “You know how daft I am.”  Bilbo looked at him a long time.

 

“You are young, but I begin to suspect you are not the rascal you sometimes act,” he said.  He had learnt this at least from his deluded blunder with Thorin.  It was best to be candid; else he risked a painful misunderstanding of intent.  “I hope you aren’t, for I believe I may have given over my heart into your hands.”  Kili stopped then, to look searchingly into Bilbo’s eyes and hold his hands; and his smile was as sweet and earnest as his kisses.

 

“You may not have it back,” he said.  “I will never let it go.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://salviag.tumblr.com/post/89574676308/the-lovely-generous-perfect-sradanvers) is the first of three works that SraDanvers commissioned from Aegileif for _A Mixture of Madness_. Y'all go look--it's absolutely gorgeous!
> 
> As is SraDanvers, gorgeous and generous and kind and perfectly wonderful! Thank you so much!


	11. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin begins his courtship, but not all is as he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an early chapter! It's Tuesday here--barely, but it is!

 

Thorin had viewed the bulbs the Man brought him with scepticism; they were irregular brown balls with papery skins that the Man instructed Thorin to hide in the dirt and give water occasionally, and to leave the torches burning in the day so that they had warmth and light to grow.  And it was annoying to not be able to use his room to confer in private anymore, or better yet retire with Bilbo to continue his courting; because it all had to be kept secret and he had nowhere else to hide the whole mess of it.  So he watched the green stalks sprout out of the soil the Man had brought him with some amazement and impatience, because once the flowers had bloomed he could give them to Bilbo and he wouldn’t have to hide this nonsense anymore.

 

Beads were far easier; he didn’t know why he had decided he should court Bilbo as the Hobbits did.  But he had, and he had no need to make haste.  Spring wouldn’t come for many months.  Hobbits seemed to move quickly in these things, but he had time to convince Bilbo to accept him.

 

So he allowed Bilbo to flutter around the outside of their gatherings in the evenings, glancing at Thorin sometimes but never flitting close enough to be caught, and waited for his butterfly’s flowers to bloom.

 

As the Man had predicted, the ones he called paperwhites were the first to blossom.  They were pretty enough, Thorin supposed, clusters of small white flowers with a sweet, spicy scent.  It was with great anticipation that he called Bilbo away from Kili’s side (he had noticed that Bilbo and Kili had become friendlier lately; he was glad to see that Bilbo had begun to favour his sister-son over that commonplace miner Bofur) to present him with his small bouquet. 

 

“I have not forgotten you, burglar,” Thorin told him.  “It is still my intention to court you.  I only waited for these flowers to grow.  I remember you told me that each flower had a meaning, but I fear I do not know the significance of these; and I had very little choice of blooms.  You must stay through the spring and into the summer, and I will have more flowers for you then.”

 

Bilbo’s usually expressive face was unreadable.

 

“Narcissus,” he said.  Thorin frowned.

 

“The Man said they were paper somethings,” he said.  Bilbo nodded.

 

“Yes, paperwhites; they are the same,” he replied.  “They may have any of several meanings.”  _Why did Bilbo look so?_   “Truly, I should be giving these to you,” he added.

 

“Why?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo did not answer, but instead met Thorin’s eyes and asked solemnly, “Do you love me?”  _Oh, Bilbo._

 

“I esteem you greatly,” Thorin said.  “I am very fond of you.”  Bilbo nodded sadly, split the bouquet in half, and gave part of it back to Thorin.

 

“I should be giving these to you,” he repeated.  “But I thank you, Thorin.  It was kind of you to think of it.”  And Bilbo would not take them back, but closed Thorin’s fingers around the stems.  He hesitated before he walked away, and added,  “You have no obligation to me.  I do not consider you to have made a promise.”

 

Thorin did note that Bilbo put the blooms he had kept in a little cup of water and then took them to his room, so he thought he would count it at least a partial success.  He looked down at the flowers in his hand. _What do they mean?_ he wondered. _That was not what I expected.  But then, when does my burglar do as I expect?_

 

In the next days, Thorin made more of an effort to be with Bilbo as it was possible.  Not during the day, of course; the day was for Erebor; but in the evening he no longer allowed Bilbo to flit as he would but instead sought him out.  Bilbo seemed nonplussed by Thorin’s attentions, and Thorin realised with some dismay that he had neglected his burglar too long.  He had lost ground without knowing it.

 

And Kili unwittingly interfered with his courting, though Thorin found no pattern to it.  Sometimes he was cheery and playful, dominating all conversation with his jesting.  Sometimes he watched Bilbo quietly without speaking, but on those occasions Bilbo seemed to be uncomfortably aware of Kili’s gaze; at least, he would often fall silent and glance at Kili in return.  Most disturbing were the times when Kili, always a tactile Dwarf, would sling his arm around or brush his hand against or lean into Bilbo; Thorin always felt disquieted to see it.  The Dwarves all knew that he courted Bilbo...but Kili was young and had no regard for propriety.  And so he never left Bilbo alone with Thorin.  Thorin was pleased that he liked Bilbo, but sometimes he wished Kili away.

 

Fili often joined them as well; those were usually the cheerful evenings.  Fili’s even temperament helped balance Kili’s rambunctiousness, but the brothers were accustomed to teasing each other and those around them, and they enjoyed teasing Bilbo greatly.  They made for convivial gatherings but not romance.  And Thorin knew Bilbo wanted romance; he had made no secret of his desire to have Thorin’s love.  Bilbo would not consider Thorin unless Thorin convinced Bilbo that he loved him.  He had little care for Thorin’s responsibilities to Erebor.  No, that was not just; Bilbo valued Erebor and understood its importance.  But he wanted a space in Thorin’s heart in which the mountain city already lived, and he did not seem to understand that he already had as much of Thorin’s heart as Thorin would ever give.

 

The Company seemed to find it all very amusing.  Thorin found it too melancholy for words.

 

And though he tried, Bilbo could not have his full attention.  They had reached an area in which excavation became difficult and dangerous, and Thorin spent many hours closeted with Dain’s engineer to plan their strategy.  When his next bulbs bloomed, the yellow ones called daffodils, Thorin was able only to give them quickly to Bilbo before he must go back to confer with the engineer.  Still he did his best.

 

“Daffodils, I am told,” he said as he presented them to Bilbo with a flourish.  “And what would these signify, in the Shire?”

 

“From you, I believe they mean chivalry,” Bilbo replied.  “But as with the narcissus, they may have several meanings.  I will take these, but you must keep three from me.”

 

“And what does it mean, the daffodils you give me?” Thorin asked curiously.  But ever-hovering Kili interrupted them.

 

“And me?” he teased Bilbo.  “Have you no flowers for me?”  Bilbo smiled at him, and Thorin— _that was **not** a smile for a friend._   _Why did Bilbo smile at his sister-son that way?_

 

“You must wait until the lilacs bloom, and hibiscus, and baby’s breath,” he told Kili.  “I have no daffs for you.”  But he said nothing more, and he would not explain what he meant, only wandered off to find fresh water for his daffodils.

 

Kili and Thorin both watched him go.

 

“At least you get flowers,” Fili informed them.  “I am sadly neglected.”

 

Thorin shook his head and returned to Dain’s engineer.  He had no time for this; already word might have reached the Blue Mountains.  He hoped that Dís would lead many of Durin’s folk home.  The Lonely Mountain must be a safe haven for them by that time.

 

Yet despite their careful planning, the excavation of the tunnels was not without trial.  Two days later a wall collapsed on Fili as he was working to shore it up, and his left leg and hand were trapped under the rock.  While they were able to rescue him swiftly, Óin declared that both were broken.  And not only had they lost Fili’s strength and endurance, but Kili had proved himself feckless, for he had disappeared when he should have been helping Fili.

 

“Where was your brother?” Thorin fumed.  Even injured as he was, Fili had been lucky.  He could have broken his neck, and Kili had abandoned him to work alone.

 

“He went for water,” Fili prevaricated.

 

“You’re lying,” Thorin returned.  “Do you think I can’t tell?  I helped raise you.  Don’t cover for your brother.  He’s still not back.  This is not a water break.”

 

“He said he was thirsty,” Fili persisted, and at that moment Kili did return.  He paled to see Fili on the ground, the Company surrounding him, as Óin treated his wounds.

 

“Fili!” he cried.  “I am so sorry; I should have been here!”

 

“You should have,” Thorin agreed sternly.  “Where were you?”  Kili appeared truly wretched, but he didn’t answer Thorin.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Fili replied.  “It was so fast; I think we might both have been trapped if you were here.”

 

“Never again, brother,” Kili promised.  “I will be here the next time.”

 

“You will be here, but Fili will not,” Thorin rebuked him.  “His hand and leg are both broken; it will be weeks before he is able to work again.  And you will now be working with either Dwalin or me.  Clearly you are too irresponsible to be left together.”

 

Kili hung his head.  “Yes, Uncle, but it was not Fili’s fault, only mine.”

 

“Oh, it was your fault,” Thorin said.  “But neither should your brother have let you go.  We are not playing here!  Grow up, Kili; or you will be hauled up by your nonexistent beard.”  Kili nodded without looking up from the ground.  Thorin commanded Dori to help Óin move Fili back up to the hall once his leg was set, and motioned the rest of the Dwarves back to work.  Kili, he sent with Dwalin; he was too angry to keep him himself.  The callow child.  Thorin could hardly look at him without seething.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narcissus can signify many things: conceit, vanity, egoism or selfishness, as well as unrequited love, purity, or the beginning of spring. Daffodils stand for uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, or ‘return my affection.’ Lilacs symbolise the emotions of a first love and baby’s breath means innocence or purity of heart, while hibiscus signifies ‘sweet disposition.’


	12. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Fili is recovering from his injuries, there is another accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am choosing to be cautious here. In this chapter, there is a scene that may be triggering to anyone with sensitivities to dub-/non-con overtones. It is not my intention that the scene be interpreted in that way, but every time I tried to go back and add something to show “Bilbo is explicitly consenting here” it ruined it for me. Assume what you like about what that says about me; I chose to leave the scene as it was rather than add explanations or dialogue that only felt awkward and clunky or false to me. Blame my shortcomings as a writer, if you will; blame my sick, sick mind if you prefer. If you need to know more, see the end note.
> 
> I would also like to thank Manhattan Mom for her feedback on this as well as several other bits and pieces of other chapters! It is always valuable to have her reactions, and it was especially crucial to me here.

 

 

 

Bilbo had to rush about to finish preparing the Dwarves’ dinner in time; Kili’s surprise visit that afternoon had put him far behind, but it was so difficult to say no to Kili...  However the bread had survived its long rest and risen nicely, and Bilbo still had time to put it in the oven, and his fish stew cooked quickly.  He only wished it were not too early for lettuce; Bilbo missed greens.  If the winter had been warm in the Shire, the first salads would be appearing on tables now, and asparagus...  Bilbo shook himself out of daydreams of roasted asparagus to greet the Dwarves as they came to dinner, but Thorin was stormy, Kili dejected, and Óin and Fili absent.

 

“What happened?” he asked worriedly.  “Where are Óin and Fili?”

 

“This puerile one happened,” Thorin said, jerking his head at Kili.  “He abandoned his post, and as a result Fili broke his hand and his leg trying to do the work of two Dwarves.”  Bilbo immediately felt guilty, and poor Kili—what he must be feeling!

 

“Oh, Kili,” he said.  “I am so sorry!”  Thorin snorted dismissively.

 

“Save your pity for Fili, who will be trapped in the hall for at least a month and cannot even use a crutch, for both leg and hand are broken on his left side,” Thorin spat, then seemed to calm himself with great effort.  “If you would, Bilbo, take Fili his dinner and sit with him while Óin comes down.  He will not be walking this far for some time.”

 

“Of course,” Bilbo agreed.  “I’ll do it right away.”  With one last remorseful glance at Kili, who did not meet his eyes, Bilbo hurried off to make a tray for Fili.  They had both been at fault.  Bilbo should have sent Kili back right away.

 

Bilbo did apologise to Fili as soon as Óin left them to seek his own dinner, but Fili dismissed it.

 

“It would have happened anyway,” he said.  “It’s not like I haven’t dragged Kili into trouble before, or he never covered up for me.  And this way, I will have a respite from Thorin’s slave-driving, and look—now I have you for dinner—all to myself.”  Bilbo laughed ruefully.

 

“Flatterer,” he told him.  “I was planning on making shepherd’s pie for you anyway, soon as I could.  And shortbread, too.”

 

“Already this is working in my favour,” Fili teased.  “But will you not consider making gingerbread cake instead of shortbread?  I confess I like it even more than your shortbread.”

 

“Gingerbread cake takes so many eggs,” Bilbo replied regretfully.  “I don’t think I can; I have so few, and I’m saving them for something else.”  Fili’s eyes turned pleading; he did it almost as well as Kili.

 

“I beg you, Bilbo,” he said.  “I can see how it will be:  I will be here every day, all day, for who knows how long, so that all the other Dwarves can go back to Erebor’s restoration; and the most exciting thing to see out the Gate is whether or not it is snowing.  You do not even have to make it right away.  The anticipation will be near as good for distraction as the cake itself.” 

 

“I don’t know, Fili...It will mean no lemon curd for at least two more weeks, perhaps even a month, nor custards, nor forager’s pie,” Bilbo warned.

 

“It is worth it to me, even if it means no more custards all winter,” Fili said wistfully.  “To have it to think of, to know that it is coming, to remember how delicious it is, when my days will be so empty.  That gingerbread cake:  it is like a glimpse into the beauties of Valinor, where Dwarves shall never be allowed to step.  But I won’t ask it of you if you would rather not.  You have been so good to us, to take it upon yourself to feed us all so well.  Every day as we have laboured I have looked forward to each new meal, and every one is a gift.”  Bilbo sighed.

 

“You may talk your way into Valinor yet,” he said.  “I think you could talk Thorin into moving to Mirkwood, you silver tongued flatterer.  I will.”  His reward was Fili’s bright smile.

 

But Bilbo could see that Fili was not happy about his enforced rest; he was near as eager as Thorin to see Erebor’s restoration complete, and now he was shut out of it for some time.  And for such an active Dwarf, to be trapped as he was...  Bilbo resolved to make it up to Fili as best he could.  He would make him gingerbread cake, and he would visit him when possible, and any other distraction he could think of.

 

And it made him consider again his romance with Kili; Kili was just so _young_.  Bilbo thought Kili did love him, but he wondered if perhaps it wasn’t a fledgling love that would weaken and break with time.  He and Kili’s love had not been tested yet, and it might prove itself to be a flimsy thing, soon discarded when adversity appeared.  For himself, he believed he would always love Kili, the way he would always love Thorin; but a weak or one-sided love had already proven to not be enough for Bilbo.  But he did not have the opportunity to broach the topic.  Thorin kept Kili close to him during the day, and while Kili did quietly seek out Bilbo in the evenings, a frank discussion was not possible.  Additionally, Thorin had assigned Kili a punishment:  second night watch for an indefinite period of time, so there would be no more sneaking into Bilbo’s alcove to whisper together unless Kili woke Bilbo in the early hours of the morning, and Kili was too considerate—and likely felt too guilty as well—to do that.

 

Fili, on the other hand:  Thorin had indeed declared Fili well enough to take all the day watches at the Gate, so that at least all the able bodied Dwarves would be working on the repairs.  Bilbo did his best to visit with him when he could, and made all Fili’s favourites to eat—shepherds’ pie and gingerbread cake to start, and tried to coax smiles out of him when he seemed bored or low.  It did seem that Fili truly was not angry with Kili or Bilbo, but he was nevertheless unhappy with his forced inactivity.  Bilbo tried to make it better when he could.

 

And Fili seemed to enjoy the time Bilbo spent with him; he was very curious about the Shire, and what Hobbits liked to do, and how Bilbo himself spent his days. 

 

“Why do you say, ‘that’s the Took in me?’” he asked one afternoon as he and Bilbo talked by the Gate.  Bilbo pursed his lips.  How to explain?

 

“Did you know that Gandalf knew my mother?” he said.  “That’s why he came to me, when he was looking for a Hobbit to join your quest.  She was a Took before she married my father, and...  The entire Took family is known as wild in the Shire.  I think she had her own adventures with Gandalf before her marriage, though I never learned what they might have been.  And Gandalf had come to the Shire before; he was friends with my grandfather, my mother’s father, and he knew me as a child.”  Fili smiled fondly.

 

“I would have liked to have known you as a child,” he said.  “I suspect you were adorable.  Would you still have fussed at us the way you do now, do you think?  And I imagine you never left home without your handkerchief, and came home at the end of a day of play perfectly spotless?”  Now it was Bilbo’s turn to smile.

 

“Ah, no,” he replied.  “I was rather wild, just as a half-Took fauntling should be, running all hours of the day through the woods looking for Elves and having adventures and only tumbling home late for supper dirty and with twigs in my hair.”  Fili laughed.

 

“I can just see it; and though I was wrong, nevertheless I am still right,” he told Bilbo.  “You _were_ adorable.”  He paused, and mocked a frown.  “Why Elves and not Dwarves?”  Bilbo snorted.

 

“Are you jealous?” Bilbo returned.  He was surprised when Fili’s eyes flashed up so intently—and his face—was he upset?  But after a moment he met Bilbo’s smile with one of his own and turned back to his gingerbread cake.  His hands were sticky with it, and he raised a hand to his mouth to suck off the crumbs finger by finger.  Bilbo could not help it; he stared.  _That mouth, sucking crumbs off his fingers...even his own fingers instead of mine..._ Bilbo felt a flash of desire as he remembered what it had been like to feel Fili’s mouth on his own hands.  _Oh, stars,_ he thought, and then, _Kili_.  He shook his head and looked away.

 

Then he became aware that he had hesitated too long in his explanation, and hurried to continue.  “My mother’s tales were all about Elves, I suppose; and sometimes they are seen in the Shire, on their way to the Grey Havens.  Dwarves might come through Bree, but though I wanted to see the world beyond the Shire, Bree—Bree was only a waystop, unusual only that Hobbits and Men both lived there.  I didn’t think there was anything interesting about Bree.”  Fili leant back in his chair, his hands behind his head.

 

“I think I _might_ be jealous,” he said mischievously.  As Bilbo smiled back at him, he realised:  though Fili didn’t smile anywhere near as often or easily as Kili, still—in these times they had come to share, Fili _did_ smile easily, and laugh too; and Bilbo had never seen the particular warmth in Fili’s eyes before, or directed at anyone but him.  Even when he smiled with Kili—Bilbo couldn’t say _how_ exactly, but it was different.  Perhaps with the Dwarves Fili had always his role and responsibilities as first heir in mind?  Bilbo could not think what else it could be.  But he was gladdened that he could give Fili the space to relax and smile so, and he thought he had come to value this time with his friend very much as well.

 

Nor was Fili reticent about himself, or about what life in the Blue Mountains had been like for him, but most of all he seemed to want to listen to Bilbo; and as Bilbo was a little homesick— indeed, though he loved these Dwarves, he was quite homesick—he was happy to speak of Bag End and his life in the Shire.  Some days Bilbo had to rush through his dinner preparations because they had lost track of time and talked so long of an afternoon.

 

It was almost a month later when disaster struck.  The tunnel in which the Dwarves worked collapsed, and all were on the other side of the rockfall but Fili and Bilbo.  Bilbo became aware of it only when the Dwarves were late for lunch, and so he went up to the hall to see what had happened to them.  Fili was not at his post.  _Something is wrong_ , Bilbo thought.  He hurried down the partially repaired tunnel to find Fili, who it seemed had hopped or dragged himself over when he heard the collapse, and was trying to dig the Company and Dain’s Dwarves out despite his injuries.

 

“Oh, stars,” Bilbo breathed.  “Oh, no.”  Fili looked at him, and there was despair in his eyes.

 

“We must hope the tunnel collapsed behind them and not over their heads, and we must hope they have enough air,” Fili said.  “We must act and pray as if it is true.  I will need your help, Bilbo.  Hobbit feasts will have to wait.”

 

“Of course,” Bilbo said quickly.  “Only, what do we do?  Surely we can’t move all this rock!”

 

“We move as much as we can,” Fili told him, “and we start at the top where it is likely to be thinnest, and we work to create a gap which air can flow through.  And we do it as quickly as we can.”  Bilbo nodded.

 

“I will,” he said, “but you really can’t do this, Fili; you have not healed enough.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Fili replied.  “It will take both of us and it still may not be enough.  Stop arguing and work!”  Bilbo nodded contritely and set to work, carefully climbing the rock pile and beginning to dislodge the debris at the top so that it rolled down and out of the way.  Several times he nearly hit Fili with something before he had the knack of it, but Fili only shook his head and waved off any apologies and kept at it.  Hours had passed before he would take a break.

 

“We can’t continue if we don’t have the strength for it, and we must rest and eat every once in a while to keep our strength,” Bilbo told him firmly.  “And it’s not like the food is not sitting there waiting!  I will be right back, and you will be careful not to hurt yourself further while I am gone, and then we will eat and rest for ten minutes before we begin again.”

 

“No,” Fili disagreed.

 

“If you think I will not sit on you and force feed you, you are mistaken,” Bilbo replied stoutly.  “We will.”  And he argued no more but ran down to the kitchens and ran back up as fast as he could.  Fili grimly wolfed down the bare minimum Bilbo would allow and then went right back to work.  Bilbo sighed, and ate a bit slower, but he did the same.

 

They worked all night, and made some progress, but they had not yet broken through when morning came.  Bilbo tried to convince Fili to stop for a while.

 

“Just an hour,” he pleaded.  “You must sleep or you will collapse where you are, and then we will be no help to anyone!”  Fili shook his head grimly.

 

“And if their air is growing stale?” he asked.  “We can rest later.  If they are dead, it won’t matter.  If they are merely trapped, they can wait.  But if they can’t breathe, minutes could mean they live instead of die.”  Bilbo burst into tears at the thought, but as he sobbed he continued to roll away any debris he could reach.  He had progressed far enough to create a small passage between the solid rock above and the rubble below.  He tried not to think about what would happen to him if any more of the tunnel came down.

 

“Hobbits are not meant for this,” he told Fili anxiously.

 

“In my experience, Hobbits are capable of far more than you would ever expect,” Fili replied.  They were quiet for a long time, clearing the rocky debris away as best they could.  Bilbo lost track of time.  His world was only dust in the air and abraded fingers and aching muscles and rocks all around him.

 

And then Bilbo could hear what he thought were voices, and when he called out in question, Ori and Kili answered him.  Bilbo began to cry again.

 

“Fili!” he cried.  “I hear them!  Fili!”

 

 

“Thank Mahal,” he heard Fili say, and he could hear cheers coming from those trapped in the tunnel as well.

 

It seemed to take no time at all or forever to finally break through, Bilbo could not tell; but even then he could only clasp hands briefly with Kili; they could just reach each other but neither could fit all the way through.

 

“What do we do?” Bilbo asked.

 

“Keep going,” Kili answered tiredly.  “Mahal, Mister Boggins, you dug a lot away for such a small fellow.”

 

“Fili is helping though he should not, and we haven’t slept,” Bilbo told him.  “But I am so glad to see you!  Are you all unhurt?”  Kili’s face dropped.

 

“No,” he said.  “But it could have been worse.  Wait here, Bilbo; I will go see what Balin thinks we should do.”

 

“Balin?” Bilbo asked worriedly.

 

“Thorin was injured,” Kili said.  “He is alive but he has not woken up.”

 

“And the others?” Bilbo asked.  _Oh please, oh please_...

 

“The Company is bruised only, though Nori’s foot may be broken; and Dwalin was nearly killed rescuing Thorin.  Thorin would be dead without him.  But two of Dain’s Dwarves are dead.”

 

“I will tell Fili,” Bilbo said.  “I will be right back.”

 

“No, don’t move, Bilbo,” Kili replied.  “We need to check with Balin first.  If Fili can hear you, you can tell him from where you are.”  And Kili carefully began to wiggle back the way he had come.  Bilbo turned his head to shout down to Fili, who could hear him after all, and seemed a bit worried about Thorin but relieved overall.  _I did not realise how hopeless he thought it_ , Bilbo thought.  _I am glad I didn’t know how likely it was to be very bad indeed._

 

When Kili finally scrabbled back to where Bilbo waited, he had news that made Bilbo want to burst into tears of relief.

 

“Balin says go sleep now,” he said.  “You will be better able to work again after, and we have air.  There is nothing more that can be done for Thorin and Nori that has not already been done.  Sleep tonight and we will begin again tomorrow.”  Before he crawled back down, though, he lowered his voice.  “Precious Bilbo,” he murmured.  “It is a joy to hear your voice, even if I can barely touch your filthy hand.”  Bilbo clenched Kili’s hand tightly.

 

“Sweet Kili,” he said.  “I am sure you are quite as dirty as I.  But I am happy to know you are safe nonetheless.”  Kili laughed, and they both began to retreat the way they had come.  Then Bilbo had a thought.  “Kili!” he called.  “Kili!  Should I bring you food?  I think I could pass something through to you.”

 

“Mahal bless Hobbits and never let them change,” Kili responded fervently.  “Oh, please do!  But what we really need is water.”

 

“I will be back as soon as I am able,” Bilbo promised.  “But it may be a little while.”

 

“We’ve been waiting this long; what does another hour matter?” Kili asked.  “Bring it when you can.”

 

So Bilbo slowly slithered back out of the tiny crawlspace he had dug and ran straight to the Gate to draw a bucket of water, then down to the other end of the hall to collect what water skins and bladders he could.  Fili still sat, exhausted, leaning against the wall at the base of the rockfall.  Bilbo paused as he was filling the skins with water.

 

“Fili,” he urged.  “Go to bed.  Balin says the rest can wait ‘till morning.”  Fili didn’t open his eyes.

 

“Too tired to move,” he muttered.  “I’ll just stay here.”  Bilbo sighed.

 

“I will help you once they have water and food over on the other side,” he told Fili.  Fili waved his unhurt hand loopily at Bilbo.

 

“Not goin’ anawhere,” he slurred.  Bilbo hurried the water skins over to Kili as quickly as he could without spilling, though that was not very quickly at all; and he brought some bread and sausage to pass through as well.  By the time he had finished and turned back to Fili, he was sleeping deeply, slumped over on the rocks.  Though he was not as dusty as Bilbo, he was still quite dirty; Bilbo dipped a cloth in the remaining water and began to gently wipe off his face and hands.  Fili woke as he did so.

 

“Go ‘way,” he murmured.  “Sleepin’.”

 

“Yes, I can see,” Bilbo fussed softly.  “I’ll be done in a moment.”

 

“Jus’ dirty ‘gain t’morrow,” Fili groused.

 

“Shh,” Bilbo said quietly.  “It will just be a moment.”  He finished washing Fili as best as was possible with a wet rag, then urged Fili to his feet.  “Lean on me,” he told him.  “Come on.”  Peevishly Fili did as he asked, but seemed confused as Bilbo led him back to the hall.

 

“Where’re we goin’?” he asked.

 

“My alcove,” Bilbo answered.  “Your bedroll is too far away, and I’m too lazy to bother with a fire right now.  You’ll sleep there tonight.”

 

“What ‘bout you?” Fili asked sleepily. 

 

“I am sure we can share,” Bilbo told him.  “If you would rather not, I’ll sleep on Kili’s bedroll; he won’t mind.”

 

“Mmm,” Fili hummed.  “No, sharin’s fine.”  Bilbo stripped off Fili’s dusty shirt, but there was nothing to be done about his pants without disturbing the splint on his leg, so Bilbo resigned himself to dust in at least the bottom part of his bed.  Fili was asleep again as soon as he lay down.

 

Bilbo himself drew another bucket of water, stripped off his filthy clothes, then washed off in the freezing water.  He spared a moment’s thought for the ponies, but was too tired to climb the Gate; he would check on them tomorrow.  Wearing only his smallclothes, he climbed into his bed next to Fili, and slept heavily until the morning came.

 

He woke to faint dawn light and Fili rutting gently against him.

 

“Fili!” he hissed.  “Wake up!”

 

“Mmm,” Fili murmured.  “No,” and his arm tightened around Bilbo.

 

“Fili, you must stop,” Bilbo insisted.

 

“I should,” Fili agreed drowsily.  “Too tired.  Too comfortable.  Y’feel too good.”

 

“Fili,” Bilbo moaned, and tried to wriggle out of Fili’s arms, but a Hobbit’s strength is no match for a Dwarf’s.  He couldn’t budge, and Fili moved more urgently behind him, and Bilbo stilled again.

 

“Not helping, Bilbo,” Fili gasped.  “You won’t stop until you have us all like beads on a braid, will you?”

 

“I have no idea what that means!” Bilbo protested.  “Let go!”

 

“You let go,” Fili replied nonsensically.  “Whole line of Durin, beads on your braid.”

 

“What?” Bilbo asked exasperatedly.  “What does that even mean?”

 

“Mmm.  It means you catch us and keep us, all us Durins,” Fili murmured.  “Brave as a Dwarf and twice as clever.”  His rutting had faded back to the gentle rocking that had awoken Bilbo, and he nuzzled Bilbo’s hair.  “Willing and loyal and loving.  No wonder none of us can resist.”  Despite himself, Bilbo could feel his body responding.  Fili felt so _good_ at his back, and his words warmed Bilbo to the core.

 

“I am only one of the Company, and not the bravest or the strongest,” Bilbo argued.

 

“Brave enough.  Strong enough,” Fili replied quietly.  “Smartest and most steadfast. Feeds us and fusses over us and cares for us.”  His uninjured hand came up to carefully card through Bilbo’s curly hair.  “And then there’s the exotic good looks, too.”  He kissed Bilbo’s shoulder tenderly.  “Beads on a braid, all three of us.  Should warn Balin and Dwalin; they’re cousins, ya know.  Óin too, Glóin’s married so he’s prob’ly safe.  Held out best I could; but you’re practic’lly nude in my arms, Bilbo, smooth and soft and warm.  I give up.  You’ve caught me.”

 

Bilbo’s eyes closed and he sighed.  _I am such a fool for flattery._   He half-heartedly tried to push out of Fili’s arms again, but couldn’t.  He wasn’t even sure Fili noticed that he had tried.

 

But _Kili_ —if Thorin owed him nothing, and he owed nothing to Thorin either—he and Kili had not made promises, but he couldn’t bear to hurt him.  Only... _Fili._   Fili who had been so kind and thoughtful to him without expectation of anything in return—heating water for his bath every evening without any expectations of anything in return, listening to him speak of his home with genuine interest, just as happy in his company and pleased to see him as Kili, if less likely to show it openly... and that _mouth_ , he thought with a jolt of lust.  _Don’t think about that night and **especially** don’t think about his mouth,_ Bilbo told himself, but of course it was too late.  _Fili_...  _I am a doomed Hobbit_ , he thought.  _A doomed and degenerate Hobbit._

 

“Cajoler,” he muttered aloud.  “If anything, you have caught me.”

 

“Have I?” Fili whispered low to him.  “Good.”  And his hand slowly dropped down to Bilbo’s cock, as if he waited for Bilbo to gainsay him, but Bilbo did not; and then his hand began to move in a steady rhythm as Bilbo moaned and rocked back against him.  It was not long before Fili’s hand tightened on him as he came against Bilbo’s back, and then he resumed his hand’s movement until Bilbo cried out his name and came as well.  They held each other and drifted off to sleep again until the sun shone bright in the sky, and Bilbo woke once more to hear voices calling from the collapsed tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili holds Bilbo to him while rutting against him and doesn’t release him when Bilbo tells him to. *frowns* Geez. When you write it like that, it definitely sounds like non-con.


	13. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Fili have a discussion; the first of the trapped Dwarves comes through.

 

This time, when he pulled out of Fili’s grasp, Fili let him go.  Bilbo grimaced; they were a sticky, flaky mess; but nothing could be done about it now.  Bilbo tossed Fili’s shirt at him and shrugged his own clothes on.

 

“Get up!” he urged frantically.  “They’re calling us; get up!  I daren’t imagine what they think has happened to us.”

 

“I can guarantee not this,” Fili replied, yawning sleepily.  “We needed the sleep, Bilbo.  But lead on.”  Fili awkwardly slipped his shirt over his injured hand and allowed Bilbo to help him pull close and tie his laces, then help him to his feet.  He leant on Bilbo and they limped as fast as Fili was able back to the tunnel.  Bilbo left Fili leaning against the wall and clambered up to the crawl space at the top of the collapsed tunnel.

 

“We’re here,” he called.  “Is something wrong?  Did something happen?”  He could hear that Kili and Ori both were at their side of the gap.

 

“Finally,” Kili exclaimed.  “We thought you were lying abed all day.”  Bilbo blushed guiltily.

 

“We slept longer than we intended to,” he answered.  “But we are here now.  What first:  breakfast?  More water?  Or shall we dig you out a bit more?”

 

“For my part, I say breakfast,” Kili replied, “but Thorin is awake now.  I’ll ask him.  And we don’t have much water left either.”

 

“I’ll go get some if you will pass back the empty bladders,” Bilbo promised.  “And I might as well move a few rocks while I wait.”  So Kili retreated and while Bilbo waited he and Ori worked from opposite sides to widen the place where the tunnel connected.  It was still slow work, but with two of them it was much faster than it had been the day before, when Bilbo had worked alone; and the work was more heartening now that he could see a way through the rockfall.

 

“Has it been hard?” Bilbo asked Ori.  “Is Nori alright?”

 

“It hasn’t been my favourite way to spend a couple days,” Ori told him.  “But Nori is fine, thank you for asking; though his foot is terribly swollen.”  He began to speak much louder.  “And he always likes being fussed over when he’s ill or injured, so he’s having great fun.  None of us have had anything else to do but wait on him.”

 

“I heard that, ungrateful whelp,” Bilbo heard Nori call out.

 

“You were meant to, you layabout,” Ori called back down.  He turned back to Bilbo.  “He actually frets awfully when he can’t do something, and he hasn’t been able to help much; so it’s best to try to keep him distracted.”

 

“Fili was just the same,” Bilbo confided.  “Look.  I think we’ve almost cleared this bit away, and then perhaps someone could slip through!”  Ori eyed it sceptically.

 

“Maybe you could come this way, but I don’t think either I or Kili could fit through on your side, and we’re the smallest.  Can you make it a bit wider?” he asked.

 

“It’s our broad Dwarven shoulders,” Kili agreed as he wiggled back up to where they lay.  “Nearly there, though.”

 

“More like your thick Dwarven heads,” Bilbo contradicted.  “I thought if my Hobbit belly could fit, then at least you two would be able to come through.  But I’ll keep working at it.”  He was so pleased to see Kili, and Ori too; he couldn’t begin to say.  He was giddy with it.  He was sad about Dain’s two who died, certainly; but his Dwarves were safe, and he would trade all the Dwarves of the Iron Hills for just one of the Company.

 

“Oh!” Kili said.  “Here are the water skins and such.  Thorin says water first; and then you may feed us, you single-minded Hobbit, and that if Ori and I are still on this side at the end of the day he’ll hand us over to Orcs.  And to tell Fili that his leg and his hand are already broken, so not to break his head.  All of it in almost those exact words.”  Bilbo took the water skins and clasped Kili’s hand.

 

“You will sleep on this side tonight,” he promised.  “And I will be so glad for the help, for Fili is useless.”  Kili laughed and began to move rock debris back away behind him and down again.  Bilbo slithered back down to fill up the water skins and bring them back.  Fili grinned at him as he went for the water bucket.

 

“Not deaf, you know,” he told Bilbo.  “Useless, am I?”  Bilbo kissed him soundly.

 

“Practically,” he replied fondly.  “But you could also talk Thorin into moving to Mirkwood, so I shouldn’t worry about it.”  And he trotted off to the Gate for the water.

 

The morning passed very quickly for Bilbo; filling the water skins and bringing them back took several trips, and then there were several trips of running to the kitchen and up again with food:  the bread was stale, but it was edible; and there were more sausages and cheeses and apples to be had.  And he had to climb down the Gate to check on the poor ponies, which were indeed out of grain and water, and then back up again.  It meant that though Bilbo was out of breath from dashing about, he moved hardly any rocks at all; and of course Fili couldn’t do much.  Bilbo could see he grew more and more frustrated as the day wore on.

 

“It’s not so bad, is it?” he tried to encourage Fili as they sat together for a very late and very quick lunch.  “Of course we would be faster if you were able to do more; but we make good progress, I think; and you have worked so hard and been so brave.  I would not have known where to begin without you.”

 

“I know it,” Fili said, “but I can’t stand sitting here moving one small rock at a time while you run about like a Dwarfling with his first hammer.”  Bilbo smiled.

 

“We would say, ‘a fauntling on a mushroom hunt,’” he told Fili.  He began to gather the refuse of their lunch together to dispose of, but before he could stand, Fili grabbed his wrist.

 

“Wait, Bilbo,” he said.  He began to work an aglet off one of his braids.  “I want you to have this.”  He placed it carefully in Bilbo’s hand.  “I would braid it into your hair, if you are willing.”  Bilbo regarded Fili closely.

 

“What does this mean?” he asked.  “It is not just a little token, is it.”

 

“It is a declaration of my intent to court you,” Fili replied seriously.  He shrugged.  “I should not make this mess between you and Thorin and Kili any worse, but Kili is too thoughtless to look beyond his next kiss, and Thorin thinks only of his convenience.  I do not make light of their feelings, but...  I want you to have choices, Bilbo.  And perhaps this will jar them out of their complacency.”

 

“You... you are offering to court me to prod your uncle and brother into action?” Bilbo asked disbelievingly.  “How flattering ‘tis!  What happened to your smooth tongue, Fili of the line of Durin?”

 

Fili sighed.  “I didn’t say that well, did I?”  He reached out to tuck a loose curl behind Bilbo’s ear and gently caressed his cheek.  “For myself, I would that you choose me; I can think of no one I have ever wanted more.  I should be honoured simply to have you wear my bead in your hair.  But for you, Bilbo: I only want your happiness.  If one of us can give you that, and it is not I...still I want you to be happy.”  Bilbo looked down at the aglet in his hand.

 

“I don’t know anything about how Dwarves court,” he said.  “Thorin has been courting me as a Hobbit would.”  Fili snorted.

 

“If you ask me, Thorin is being lazy and presuming much; but perhaps I am unfair to him, and I don’t really know what Hobbits do when they court, only Dwarves.  But I am biased and I know it,” he said.  “We will take the time to teach you, if you want it.”

 

“We?” Bilbo asked.

 

“We,” Fili affirmed.  “I am certain everyone will want to interfere as much as possible.”  Bilbo smiled uneasily.  _The entire Company giving me courting advice...I will die of mortification!_

 

“And it is not...not a permanent commitment yet?” he persisted.   Fili shook his head.

 

“It is not,” he answered.  “I suspect it is like those flowers Thorin has given you, if you were to braid them in your hair and wear them everywhere you went.”  He poked at Bilbo’s tummy, and Bilbo batted his hand away.  “It means someone likes you.  You could wear twenty if you liked, though I should not be handing them out by the dozens, but...it is a sign, not a promise.”  Fili chuckled sheepishly.  “Perhaps we forgot to mention that celebration often leads to courtship, among Dwarves?”  Bilbo stared.

 

“Yes,” he said tartly.  “You forgot to mention that part.”  He took a deep breath.  “I will wear it.  Help me?”  He held the aglet out to Fili, who carefully selected a piece of Bilbo’s hair to create a short braid, then pinched the aglet around the end.  He cupped Bilbo’s face in his hand and simply looked at him.

 

“You give me a great boon, Bilbo Baggins,” he murmured softly.  “I treasure it as I treasure you.”  Bilbo leant in to kiss him.

 

“That’s where your silver tongue went, you great flatterer,” he whispered against Fili’s lips.  “Do you still claim that _I_ caught _you_?”

 

“Always,” Fili answered, smiling between kisses.  “I tried; but I have no defences against burglars or Hobbits, it seems, and both...”  Bilbo leant back.

 

“We’re putting the cat in the bathtub, aren’t we?” he asked.

 

“We would say, ‘tossing a diamond into a pile of glass,’” Fili replied mischievously.  “Yes, we are.”  Bilbo nodded.

 

“I’m ready if you are,” he told Fili, and he stood.  “I’m a thoroughly disreputable Hobbit at this point anyway.  My reputation could not possibly become any worse than it already will be.”  He took a deep breath.  “I will go get the cat.  You run the bath.”  And he began to clamber up the rockfall again, his stomach churning.

 

Kili and Ori were both slowly chipping away at the crawl space, and neither noticed Bilbo’s new ornament at first.  It was only after they had cleared away a large enough space that both could wiggle all the way through that Kili noticed.

 

“Oh, it’s nice to be out,” he declared, standing tall and stretching his back.  “Tell me you still have some ale tucked away somewhere, Bilbo; I am in dire need of it—“  And then Kili saw the aglet.  Hesitantly he reached out to touch it.

 

“Bilbo?” he asked, stupefied.  Bilbo bit his lip.  Kili touched his own hair, as if seeking a bead in his nonexistent braids, then turned to stare at Fili.  “Brother?”

 

“Brother,” Fili said agreeably.  “Welcome back.”  Kili turned to Ori.

 

“Were we in there two days or two years?” he asked blankly.  “My brother seems to have stolen my Hobbit.”  Ori looked perplexed.

 

“I thought he was Thorin’s Hobbit,” he said.  Kili shook his head.

 

“No, though Thorin thinks that too,” he said, “so I can see where the confusion comes in.  But, Bilbo...”  He turned to Bilbo, and he looked so disconsolate...  Bilbo melted.

 

“Kili, I feel as I did,” he said.  He pulled Kili down so that their foreheads touched.  “Should I find a bead to give you?” he asked.  Kili pulled back to contemplate Bilbo, then slowly reached out to touch the aglet again.

 

“No,” he said.  “Save me a lock of your hair.”  And he dashed off in the direction of the Treasury.

 

Ori stared at Bilbo, then at Fili, then at Bilbo again.

 

“I’m glad we’re supposed to stay and help on this side,” he said.  “Because I wouldn’t be the one to tell Thorin for all the mithril in Moria.  But I look forward to seeing him find out!”

 

“Ten gold pieces that he tries to cut them out of Bilbo’s hair,” Fili said.

 

“Done,” Ori replied.  “I think he’s going to pick him up and shake him until they fall out.”

 

“I’m gratified by your concern,” Bilbo said testily.  “Shall we move rocks, or are there more bets to be made?”  He waggled his finger at Fili.  “And I expect you to protect me from any such threats.”

 

“Me?” Fili asked innocently.  “I’m a useless invalid.  Ask any Dwarf in the mountain.”


	14. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and the rest of the Dwarves return to the Hall.

 

Thorin’s head spun still, and he was nauseous and could not look at the torches for the pain the flickering light caused behind his eyes, but he was grateful to be alive.  Two of Dain’s Dwarves had died, and almost Dwalin as well, to get him to safety.  Thorin was miserable with regret and discomfort.  Nevertheless, he did as he always must, and hid what he felt from the other Dwarves.  He could not falter; if he did, no one must see it.

 

Not much was required of him, however; Óin would not allow him to stand yet much less return to work, so he was tucked against the wall out of the way of the excavations.  He closed his eyes and listened to the Dwarves’ activity and dozed.  At some point Óin gave him some water, and then later a bit of bread, but he could not stomach more.

 

“Kili and Ori are nearly through, I think,” Dwalin reported.  “By tomorrow we’ll be able to fit through a real Dwarf, not just one of those skinny striplings.”

 

“Though I’m guessing not you or Bombur yet,” Thorin grunted.

 

“No, nor you either,” Dwalin agreed.  “We’re here for the whole haul, and probably Nori too because of his foot.  It’ll be exciting as dancing with Elves.”

 

Thorin closed his eyes.  “Wake me when it’s over,” he said.  “Or if Nori decides it’d be entertaining to drive you mad.  No, wait; I’ve already seen that.  Only wake me if it’s over.”

 

“You don’t want a report from the boys?” Dwalin asked quizzically.  Thorin groaned.

 

“Yes, of course I do; but unless something is happening let me sleep, for Mahal’s sake!” he grouched.  “My head aches and the mountain won’t stop spinning.”  After that, Dwalin let him be.

 

Dwalin was right, and the next day they were able to send through Bofur and seven of the slightest of the Iron Hills Dwarves, and then the clearing of the rubble proceeded apace.  After two days, Thorin’s head had stopped spinning and his headache was better, but Óin still refused to clear him to help.

 

“Whether you like it or not, I’m going back to work,” Thorin growled at him.

 

“You are welcome to try, _your Majesty_ ,” Óin replied, “but if you do I will have Dwalin tie you up.  You must not exert yourself yet.”  Thorin had known he was in trouble as soon as Óin called him ‘your Majesty;’ as was his preference, none of the Dwarves of the Company did.  So Thorin grumbled but he subsided.  It was still difficult to think clearly, and his memory seemed patchy, for Balin said he was having to repeat some of the progress reports that he had already given Thorin.  He would not admit it, but he was grateful for the rest, even though it was as boring as watching stalagmites grow.

 

The next day, the food delivered to them was hot, so Thorin assumed Bilbo was back in his beloved kitchen.  And after three days more, all the Dwarves were able to fit through the cleared space.  Thorin shook off Dwalin’s help and climbed through himself.  The assembled Dwarves cheered as he came through last of all, though they would be mournful later:  two of their number would be sent to stone later that day.  He viewed the gathered Dwarves and allowed satisfaction to rise within him, just for a moment; this small number with him reclaimed their home, and although this had been a setback, still they carried on with hope and good spirits.  He had lived many years only for this.

 

There was more rubble to be cleared and shoring up to do, of course; and the day was not yet done, so after a few minutes of cheering, Thorin set everyone back to work.  He ignored the low whispers and the sidelong glances many of the Dwarves gave him; if they doubted his ability to persevere through injury, they would soon learn better.  Before he went back down the tunnel himself, he sought out Fili as Kili helped him make his way back to the Gate; Thorin was pleased to see that he had taken on that responsibility without having to be directed to do so and without complaint.  Fili grew to be a responsible and clear-sighted Dwarf, and Kili was good-hearted even if he was yet callow.  Both seemed strangely tense and expectant when he signalled them, but relaxed as he clapped them both on the shoulders.

 

“You have done well,” he told them.  “Both of you.  I am well-pleased with my heirs this day.”  Fili met his eyes solemnly and Kili smiled weakly at him.

 

“Hope he feels that way this time tomorrow,” Kili muttered under his breath to his brother.  Thorin frowned but said nothing.  If he called them out on all their mischief, he would spend his entire life at it.  He turned instead to Fili.

 

“You go to the Gate?  To watch?” he asked.

 

“I do,” Fili replied.  “The past days have been sadly frustrating, trying to help clear away the fallen rock with only one good hand; and Óin has already scolded me for damaging my hand’s healing by doing too much with it.  So I return to the watch, boring though it is.  Unless you have aught else for me to do?”  He smiled hopefully, but Thorin laughed and shook his head.

 

“No, nothing,” he said.  “But perhaps soon enough you will be getting around again, if your leg heals well.”

 

“I hope it does,” Fili grinned wryly.  “Óin grunted but said nothing, so I have taken that as approval.”  Thorin clapped him on the shoulder again, then turned to Kili.

 

“You will join us down the tunnel once your brother has settled?” he asked.  Kili smiled nervously at him.

 

“I will be there,” he said.  “Two minutes only.”  Thorin nodded and turned away, his mind already moving to plot the necessary next steps as they repaired the damaged tunnel.

 

He did not see Bilbo in more than passing until after the Dwarves sent their comrades to the stone; Bilbo was hurrying Fili’s dinner up to him as the rest of the Dwarves trooped down to the dining room, and he must have stayed to eat with Fili, for Thorin didn’t see him again.  But it appeared to Thorin that Bilbo showed his happiness to have them all back though he was not to be found, for he had put out a feast for them:  ham and roasted lamb, grilled vegetables and fried potatoes and even a sweet pudding of sorts.  As they made the long climb up to the Gate’s hall from the depths where they had laid their comrades to rest, Thorin thought that he would be well contented for just one night to sit by the fire with his burglar by his side, with no work to do and no confusing courting with flowers to be done—where one gave flowers away only to be given some of them back—simply resting in each other’s company.

 

Bilbo did still sit with Fili at the Gate; Fili had his arm around Bilbo and Bilbo’s head rested on Fili’s shoulder.  Thorin felt a moment of disquiet; they looked like lovers.  But they had always been close, and they had only had each other during this trial, and Thorin expected that it had been a difficult time for Bilbo.  It was natural that Bilbo and Fili would have come to rely on each other; it meant nothing untoward.  He thought that until Bilbo turned at the sound of the Dwarves’ arrival, and turned to speak quietly to Fili, and then helped him to his feet; as they approached the surrounding Dwarves quieted, and Thorin felt all the shock of it.  The gossiping whispers, the questioning looks—they were for this:  Bilbo had a courting bead in his hair—he had _two_ courting beads in his hair—and one of them looked like Fili’s aglets.  Thorin looked closely at Fili’s hair; he had not noted it before, but it was true:  Fili was missing a braid.

 

_Bilbo had two courting beads in his hair, and one of them was Fili’s._

_And whose was the other’s?_

 

Detachedly Thorin watched Fili and Bilbo approach; they did not do him the disservice of trying to avoid him, but came directly to him.  Bilbo, he thought, looked nervous; but Fili was composed and met Thorin’s eye without compunction.  They stopped in front of him and waited, but Thorin found that he could not speak.  His stoicism was sliding away into a maelstrom of—jealousy, anger, wounded pride, sorrow—he could not name all that he felt.

 

“Hello, Thorin,” Bilbo finally said.  Thorin nodded curtly to acknowledge his greeting.  He did not speak until he could do so coolly.

 

It took some time before he could.

 

“You have accepted my sister-son’s courting bead,” he finally said.  Bilbo bit his lip, but he also straightened his shoulders, and Thorin felt a twinge of—what?  Admiration?  Respect?

 

“I have,” Bilbo replied.  “Fili asked if he could court me in the Dwarven way, and I said yes.”

 

“And this one?” Thorin resolutely lifted Bilbo’s other short braid, on which was strung a fine gold bead imbedded with emeralds and diamonds.  That was nothing he had seen anyone of the Company wear before, nor one of Dain’s Dwarves—and when had Bilbo ever spent any of his time with the Dwarves of the Iron Hills?  It was another of the Company who had imposed himself in this way.  Thorin waited, and Bilbo looked to the side, and...  When he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, Thorin turned.  Kili was slowly but determinedly moving through the crowd of staring Dwarves to stand with Bilbo and Fili.  _Kili_.

 

“Brought that with you from the Ered Luin, did you?” Thorin asked brusquely.  “My second heir, _my sister-son_.”  Kili flushed.

 

“I didn’t have any beads,” he admitted.  “I found it in the Treasury; you can take it out of my share.”  Thorin frowned.  His sister-sons.  _Both_ of them.

 

“And this happened when?” Thorin prodded.  “While I lay unconscious on the stone floor, you gambolled about in the Treasury and _stole my burglar_?”  By the end, he knew he roared, and Kili flinched; but all three of them held their ground.

 

“No, to be fair, Uncle, that was only me,” Fili told him steadily.  “Though there was not much gambolling.  Kili’s been at this for a while; he just hadn’t thought about a bead until he saw mine in Bilbo’s hair.”  Thorin could not believe this—this—of any of them!  But it all became obvious now:  Kili’s closeness to Bilbo, the glances they shared, his constant _touching_...

 

“And you, Bilbo—have I been so lacking a suitor that you must turn to these puerile turncoats?” he demanded.  “There is no loyalty in any of you!”  Bilbo put his hands on his hips and glared crossly at Thorn.

 

“You will not question our loyalty—any of ours, not mine and not Fili’s or Kili’s!” he asserted.  “As Fili has explained it to me, it is perfectly appropriate to be courted by more than one person, or to court someone though another does as well!  And for that matter, you have not made it so far along with Hobbit courting that the same could not be said!  You cannot merely throw flowers at me!  You would have to actually see me and talk to me and spend time with me for things to have progressed so far between us!”

 

“So this is a ploy to gain my attention?” Thorin asked.  “You have it, Hobbit!”

 

“That is not what this is about!” Bilbo cried.  “I love them!  And I believe them when they say they love me too.”

 

“You said that you loved me,” Thorin rejoined bitterly.  “Did you lie, then?”  Bilbo’s shoulders slumped.

 

“No, Thorin,” he said sadly.  “I do love you—and I suppose if you had loved me too then we should never have come to this, for none of us would have betrayed you were you and I truly committed.  But you have never been able to love me, and I won’t choose you over a Dwarf who does, and that I can love as well.”  He paused.  “I don’t blame you, Thorin; it’s not your fault.  But I should like to be courted for myself and not for your honour.”

 

Thorin looked at him a long time without saying anything, and Bilbo bore his regard without flinching.  Then Thorin unceremoniously picked up Bilbo, flung him over his shoulder, and carried him off to Bilbo’s little alcove.

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo cried, and beat on his shoulders, and Thorin heard Fili and Kili protesting as well.  “Put me down, you—you—“

 

“What?” Thorin asked curiously.

 

“I don’t know!” Bilbo stated irately.  “But put me down!”  Thorin ducked under the tapestry he had resented during the nights of Bilbo’s celebration, and set Bilbo carefully on his feet.

 

“Better, burglar?” he challenged.

 

“What are you doing, Thorin?” Bilbo responded.  “This doesn’t change anything!”

 

“I think it does, oh Hobbit who has agreed to be courted as a Dwarf,” Thorin disagreed.  “I think it changes a lot of things.”  He moved close so that he loomed over Bilbo’s slighter form and let his hands rest on Bilbo’s shoulders.  Ever so lightly, he ran both his hands up until they sunk into Bilbo’s hair and caressed his scalp.  Bilbo tilted his head back to lean into Thorin’s hands, and Kili burst into the tiny room.

 

“Get out,” Thorin said curtly.  “You’ve had your chance to steal my intended.  I’m having a turn stealing him back.”

 

“Bilbo?” Kili asked.

 

“Go on, Kili,” Bilbo told him.  “I’ll be fine.”  Kili nodded uncertainly and withdrew.

 

“You most definitely will,” Thorin informed Bilbo.  “But we will be clarifying a few things between us.”

 

“I’ve been honest with you, Thorin; and I still maintain that you owe me nothing,” Bilbo answered.  “Will you let pride motivate you to do this?  We both know you don’t do it out of love.”

 

“Do we?” Thorin asked.  “I know no such thing.”  And he bent his head to take Bilbo’s mouth with his own.  Bilbo was slow to respond, unlike the one night he and Thorin had shared; but Thorin did not relent, and it was not long before Bilbo was returning his kiss as eagerly as he had before.  Only then did Thorin break the kiss.

 

“What have you been told about Dwarven courting?” Thorin prompted.  “Bilbo?”

 

“Honestly, not that much,” Bilbo replied sheepishly, “but Fili and I agreed that we would fix that as soon as we could.”

 

“But you already wear his bead,” Thorin said.

 

“I do,” Bilbo said.  “He said it was just the first step!”

 

“Oh, he’s right about that in a certain sense,” Thorin told Bilbo, his hands slowly unbuttoning Bilbo’s waistcoat and then shirt.  Bilbo stared at him; he seemed not to believe what was happening was real.  “Did he mention anything else?”  He smoothed Bilbo’s garments off his shoulders, and bent down to suckle at the place where Bilbo’s shoulder met his neck.  “Did he bring you pleasure, my sister-son?”

 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Bilbo asked.  His hands came up to hover lightly on Thorin’s chest, but they did not push him away, so Thorin took that as permission to continue.  Thorin’s own hands roamed down Bilbo’s back, from his shoulders to the curve of his seat, and he pulled back to inspect the mark he was making.

 

“Did he tell you that Dwarven courting comes with an established guide for the steps of courtship?” Thorin asked.  The mark was not dark enough.  He bent his head to it again.

 

“N-n-n-no,” Bilbo exhaled softly, tilting his head so Thorin had better access to his neck.  His hands were clutching convulsively at Thorin’s shirt.

 

“Did he tell you that there are three extensively annotated, _illustrated_ volumes that dictate the methods of courtship?” Thorin continued.  He looked again.  That mark was acceptable.  He grasped Bilbo’s thighs and lifted him up so that Bilbo’s chest was level with his face, and bit down gently on Bilbo’s left nipple, then sucked an open-mouthed kiss to apologize.  Bilbo yelped and his arms flailed before he grabbed tightly onto Thorin’s hair. 

 

“N-no, he didn’t mention it,” Bilbo gasped.  Thorin lifted his head to look, but no.  He wanted Bilbo’s nipple puffy and red and erect from his attention, and it was not nearly enough yet.  He bit down again, and sucked, and mouthed at it.  Between bites and kisses, he continued to question Bilbo.

 

“Did you tell you that volumes one and two are exclusively devoted to the sexual regimen of the courting couple?  That Dwarves may not move on in their courtship until they have successfully completed each step?”  Thorin inspected again; that was better.  He moved on to the other nipple; and Bilbo moaned, a high thin sound; and Thorin revelled in it.

 

“Must have slipped his mind,” Bilbo answered breathily.  He tugged on Thorin’s hair to guide Thorin up for a kiss.  Thorin rewarded him generously, then quickly spun so that Bilbo was beneath him as they dropped to the bed, and Bilbo shrieked. Thorin sat up and pulled Bilbo’s trousers off so forcefully he heard them tear, then began to rip off his own clothes just as carelessly.  Bilbo sat up on his elbows and watched him, his eyes dark.

 

“Did he tell you that Dwarven courtship can last _decades_?” Thorin demanded, moving his hand on Bilbo’s cock as Bilbo moaned and pushed up into his hands.

 

“No!” Bilbo groaned.  Thorin sat up and lifted his hand off of Bilbo.

 

“No?” Thorin asked innocently.  “Should I stop?”  Bilbo hit his shoulder.

 

“’No, he didn’t tell me,’ not ‘no, don’t do that!’” Bilbo complained.  “Put that hand back where it was!”

 

“I don’t think so,” Thorin shook his head.  “What _did_ he tell you?”  And instead of giving Bilbo his hand, he took Bilbo’s cock into his mouth, and Bilbo wailed.

 

“M-m-mostly,” he panted, “it was-was-just down to the beads—“ he gasped, “and the sex.”  His legs had come up to cling tightly to Thorin’s shoulders.  Thorin lifted his head and looked at Bilbo intently.

 

“The sex?” he inquired coolly.  Bilbo hit him on the shoulder again.

 

“Yes, the sex!  Like we were just having!” he exclaimed.  “I thought you didn’t want to know about what your nephews and I got up to!”

 

“Hmm,” Thorin murmured, then lowered his head again and hummed around Bilbo’s cock.  Bilbo gasped and sobbed and kicked his heels.

 

“Tho-rin!” he wailed quietly.  Thorin sucked harder.  “THORIN!” Bilbo screamed.  _Yes, that was about right._   He pulled back loosely so that Bilbo thrashed in frustration, then dove back down and swallowed around him, and Bilbo screamed his name again.  Thorin pulled off and propped his head on his elbow.

 

“Do you know, I think I do want to know?” he said conversationally.  “Not out of any salacious interest, of course; but as a concerned uncle and king, and a rival suitor.”

 

Bilbo let his head drop to the ground and groaned.  “Of course you do,” he muttered.  “Don’t mind me; ask away.”  Thorin began to lick Bilbo’s cock lightly, just enough to titillate, not nearly enough to bring Bilbo to his peak.  “Thorin...” Bilbo pleaded.  “ _Please_ , Thorin!”

 

“Louder,” Thorin told him.  “I want Dwalin to hear you.”

 

“Ha!” Bilbo gloated.  “He said you’d be jealous, but I wasn’t sure; it was celebrating, after all—I thought jealousy wasn’t apropos.”

 

“It is not,” Thorin said, nipping gently at Bilbo’s thighs.  “But I was—terribly jealous, and I am jealous now.  What _did_ you do with my sister-sons, Bilbo?  What did they do to convince you to wear their beads?”  He bit down hard—Bilbo yelled—then Thorin kissed it gently to sooth the hurt before pushing Bilbo’s thighs back and apart so that Bilbo was open for his perusal.  He laved a wide swath across Bilbo’s opening, and Bilbo began to wail again.

 

“Thorin!  Thorin!” he chanted wildly.  Thorin had never heard anything so beautiful in all his life.  He pushed his tongue as deep inside Bilbo as he could and curled it around the rim of his hole.  Bilbo no longer seemed capable of words, only sobs and moans.  Though he wanted to hear his name on Bilbo’s lips again, Thorin was pleased enough with that result.  He delved into Bilbo with his tongue again, and Bilbo shuddered and gasped and writhed so beautifully for him—only for him.

 

Thorin pulled back and looked expectantly at Bilbo:  flushed, sweaty, hedonistic Bilbo.  Bilbo began to cry—and he was truly crying, tears flowing from his eyes to wet his hair.

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin leant forward, concerned.  Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist and pulled him in and drummed against him with his heels.

 

“If you don’t stop messing about and _fuck_ me, Thorin Oakenshield, I will get someone in here who _will_!” he demanded furiously.  “And you can stop asking about what your sister-sons did to me and watch!”

 

Thorin growled.  “Have we not already covered this?  Dwarves are not voyeurs.”

 

“You are cruel,” Bilbo accused.  Thorin responded by sucking one of Bilbo’s stones into his mouth and rolled it on his tongue.  “Cruel,” Bilbo repeated breathlessly, his head lolling back on his blankets, his hips bucking ceaselessly.  Thorin sat up again and let Bilbo’s stone fall from his mouth, and covered Bilbo’s body with his own, letting his weight crush Bilbo into the blankets.

 

“I have been,” he agreed as he mouthed at Bilbo’s neck once more.  “I _have_ been cruel to you, Bilbo, and I believe I may have lied to you as well.”  Bilbo rocked into Thorin lustily and clung to Thorin’s back with his smooth arms.

 

“Tell me about it later,” he suggested.  Thorin chuckled against his neck.  _His Bilbo, his clever, witty, lovely Bilbo._   Thorin took a deep breath.

 

“I may have lied when I said I didn’t love you,” he said.  “I may have lied when I claimed I sought to marry you only to appease my honour.”  Bilbo stilled beneath him.

 

“You _may_ have lied?” he asked.  “When will you know?”

 

“I may have lied to myself as much as to you,” Thorin continued.  He rolled onto his side, taking Bilbo with him so that they still lay face to face.  He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them, Bilbo was searching his face intently.

 

“When Smaug drove us from Erebor I was too young to think of marriage,” Thorin said.  “And then...my people needed me.  They were everything.  Even when I came to be of an age to think of such things...I could not.  I _would_ not.  I would not think on what other Dwarves had when there was no room in my life for it.  I have been married to Durin’s folk for most of my life, Bilbo.  Everything I have done has been for them.”  Bilbo smoothed a lock of Thorin’s hair back from his face and listened, his eyes rapt as they met Thorin’s.

 

“And then I came to lead this quest, and I met you, and...”  Thorin caressed Bilbo’s cheek.  “I may have thought you soft and unprepared to face the hardships of the road, but I wanted you from the beginning.  I thought you a distraction I did not need at the worst possible time for it, and then—then you said you would try to help us take our home back, and I could see that you _understood_.  You stood to defend me from Azog; and you were not bad at it, though you were ill-prepared to do so.  You—you were more than handsome and clever, you valued what I valued:  a home for my people.  You braved danger successfully and turned those wits and sharp eyes of yours to help us escape Thranduil’s grasp and enter the mountain and—“ Thorin shook his head sadly.  “And you defied me when I was lost to insanity yet still fought by my side in battle.  I would not look at it so that I did not have to name it, but I think it has been love for a long time.”  Thorin slowly leant forward to kiss Bilbo tenderly, and Bilbo tilted his head up to meet him.  For a long languorous time, they kissed, before Thorin broke away to continue.

 

And then I had you in my bed; I had you first,” he said.  “And you were nothing and everything that I had imagined, and I wanted you back there more than I could say.  When the celebrations had ended I _planned_ to have you back there.  But you saw me with Dwalin, and you left me in my mountain, and suddenly what I had worked for and dreamt of all these years was only duty and ash in my mouth.”

 

“What about your honour?” Bilbo asked.

 

“My honour was satisfied when I offered for you.  You said no, but it was enough,” Thorin replied.  “But I didn’t want to leave it there.  So I told myself that honour demanded more from me, and I continued to court you.”  Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

 

“You weren’t very good at it,” he informed Thorin.

 

“I have had no practice,” Thorin growled, pulling Bilbo’s hips hard against him.  “But I had no intention of letting you go.  I _have_ no intention of it.”  Bilbo pulled Thorin in to kiss him again, but then released him with a sigh.

 

“I do not say it is too late, Thorin, but...I _do_ wear Fili and Kili’s beads in my hair, and I _do_ love them,” he said.  “I don’t know what to do about it.”  Thorin tilted Bilbo’s chin up again for another kiss, and Bilbo came to him, so _willingly_ , so _eagerly_ —how had he not known this was love?  He was a fool ten times over.

 

“You will continue to do what you are doing,” he told Bilbo.  “You will allow all three of us to court you, and in time you will know what to do.  But you should know that I do not intend to make such a hash of it as I have been doing.  I will not give you up easily.  And I hope you will allow my bead to join Fili and Kili’s beads in your braids.”  Bilbo smiled solemnly at him.

 

“I will,” he said.  “I will be happy to.”  Thorin smiled and placed a small kiss on Bilbo’s forehead.

 

“Where is it?” he asked.

 

“Where is what?” Bilbo responded in a confused tone.  “You haven’t given me a bead.”

 

“I did, Bilbo,” Thorin answered patiently.  “When I gave you my braid, it had a bead on it.  A Dwarf would have known to signal acceptance of my courtship by wearing it, but...  I didn’t ask it of you before, as I courted you in the fashion of Hobbits; but I ask it of you now.  Will you braid my bead into your hair?”  Bilbo blushed.

 

“Get up,” he told Thorin.

 

“I don’t want to,” Thorin replied.  “I am exactly where I want to be.”  Bilbo sighed exasperatedly.

 

“Get up, Thorin; I can’t reach it!” he retorted.  Thorin groaned, but he sat; and Bilbo slid his hand under his blankets and reached for something there.  When he pulled out his hand, Thorin’s braid was in it.  Thorin smiled to see it.

 

“Both my sister-sons and half the Company in your bed to celebrate, and my bead has been with you this whole time?” he asked.  “I would have been much happier to have known it.”

 

“Bother you and all Dwarves,” Bilbo snapped and blushed.  “A confounded nuisance, the whole lot of you.”  Thorin smiled and carefully worked his bead out of the braid he had given Bilbo, then gently braided it into Bilbo’s hair.  He ran his fingers through Bilbo’s short curls for a long time, simply feeling the soft texture beneath his hands, and looking into Bilbo’s warm eyes.  He would be content to stay here for hours; but though he had set her aside, Erebor still stood in his heart as well; it was only that Bilbo had joined Erebor there fully, and Thorin’s love for both was all intertwined together.  He loved Bilbo partly because Bilbo had fought for Erebor at Thorin’s side, for Thorin’s sake.  In part, his love for Erebor was shaded now with his desire to build a home not only for his people but for Bilbo as well.  The way Bilbo fed his people, creating a home in his Hobbit way; the way he took to Dwarven customs, though they challenged his own upbringing and sensibilities...  Thorin would not try to measure it.  It was enough for him that it should be so, and that Bilbo should know it.


	15. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo answers some questions, and asks some of his own in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sra_Danvers generously commissioned a series of three pieces for this story from one of my favorite artists, Aegileif. You will find the picture of Bilbo and Thorin [here](http://salviag.tumblr.com/post/90282471723/here-is-the-third-of-aegileifs-beautiful-series).

 

_It was a dream_ , Bilbo thought dazedly.  It was what he had thought Thorin promised him that first night, when he had misunderstood so badly; but now Thorin had expressed it so clearly in words in such a way that Bilbo could not disbelieve.  And Thorin would not lie to him, had never lied to him—at least, he had only told Bilbo the lies he himself believed to be true.  Thorin loved him.  Thorin _loved_ him.  He gazed into Thorin’s eyes and remembered Thorin’s indomitable will, and he could not imagine that Thorin would ever let him go.

 

But _Fili_ , and _Kili_...

 

No.  In this moment Bilbo would set thoughts of them aside.  He would do as Thorin had suggested and allow all three to court him openly, and he would trust that time would make the course he should take clear.  He would not think of others when Thorin was in his bed now.  But Thorin had other ideas.

 

“Stop; stop!” Bilbo shrieked, as Thorin lightly curled his fingers into the sensitive sides of Bilbo’s ribs.

 

“Tell me, then,” Thorin suggested so reasonably, as if he had not resorted to _torture_ to get what he wanted out of Bilbo.

 

“No!” Bilbo resisted.  “It’s not your business!” Thorin’s fingers dug in to Bilbo’s sides in exactly the wrong spot, and Bilbo squirmed again.

 

“I tell you again that it _is_ my business, and for more than one reason,” Thorin replied.  “As their uncle, that they have found an intended suited for them; as their king, that they have gone about their courting in a proper manner which will not cause embarrassment or scandal; and as a rival suitor, that I may know how their courtships progress as compared to mine.”  _What nonsense,_ Bilbo thought.

 

“It’s not proper!” he gasped, trying to wriggle away from Thorin’s tickling.  “I won’t tell you!”  Thorin stopped tickling for the moment to wrap his arms around Bilbo and roll them back over so that he covered Bilbo with his heavy Dwarven body.

 

“Listen to me, Bilbo, when I tell you that it _is_ ,” Thorin insisted.  “Dwarves do not _watch_ , but we _talk_ ; do you think Fili and Kili have _not_ discussed it?  _They_ know what each has done with you, and I will know it as well.”  Bilbo looked at him; he seemed to be serious.

 

_My brother says you gave him a kiss, Bilbo,_ Kili had said _.  “He says you gave him many, and took them back eagerly_...” and then, “... _and maybe Fili described your kisses to me really well_...  And Fili had said, “ _Kili is too thoughtless to look beyond his next kiss_ ,” as if he _knew_ , as if he and Kili _had_ talked about it...

 

It was just too strange!  But that was what Bilbo had thought about the celebrations as well; he would never have thought such a thing could be part of someone’s culture...

 

“Do you want to know about our celebrations, or solely the courtships?” Bilbo asked.

 

“I _want_ to know it all,” Thorin said.  “But all I have a right to is the courtships.”  Bilbo bit his lip.

 

“Kili has kissed me,” he said.

 

“And?” Thorin prompted.

 

“That’s all,” Bilbo told him.  “Well, and maybe once or twice hands slipped under shirts.  But mostly, we’ve just kissed.  A lot.”  Thorin propped his head up on his hand, his elbow bent beneath him, to look at Bilbo quizzically.

 

“Huh,” he said.

 

“Oh, very eloquent,” Bilbo said sarcastically.  “What does that _mean_?”

 

“Nothing at all,” Thorin assured him, but Bilbo did not believe him.  “And Fili?  How did my first heir woo you into courting?”  Bilbo blushed to remember it.

 

“He...”  _This was so embarrassing._   “He _talked_ me into it,” Bilbo muttered.

 

“He _talked_ you into it?”  Thorin asked, patent disbelief in his voice.  “Nothing physical at all?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Bilbo pouted.  “But mostly, it was down to the talking, that sweet-tongued scoundrel of a charmer that he is.”  Thorin looked at him sceptically.

 

“What was it that he said?” he asked.  “And just to be clear, what _did_ happen, even if that’s not what convinced you?”  Bilbo took a deep breath.

 

“He held me to him and he rocked against me and he _talked_ and he—with his hands,” he said quickly.  “He said he wanted me more than anyone else in the world, but most of all he wanted me to be happy.”  Thorin reached out and palmed Bilbo’s cock.

 

“Only to clarify:  ‘he—with his hands?’  This is what he did?” he asked.

 

“Ye-ess,” Bilbo moaned.  Thorin lifted his hand off of Bilbo and sat back again.

 

“Huh,” Thorin said again.  “Hobbits are _easy_.”  _Why that—_ Bilbo slapped his arm.

 

“I’ll thank you not to insult me!” Bilbo exclaimed.  “’ _Hobbits are easy_.’  Clearly Fili does not get his flattering ways from _you_!”

 

“I did not mean it as an insult, Bilbo, only—“ Thorin paused.  “I have wondered how Hobbits could court so quickly, and withhold their bodies from each other until the very end, and how they _knew_ —and all along it is that you come to pleasure so quickly—from so little.  If I had known _that_ , I shouldn’t have bothered with those frivolous flowers.”  Bilbo fumed, but he tried very hard to hold his temper.  Thorin was not a Hobbit, but he was _trying_ to understand, even if he got it all wrong.

 

“It is not that we orgasm from kisses, Thorin, thank you very much,” Bilbo stated, his voice just the smallest bit testy.  “It is that the _words_ and the _symbols_ and the _other_ actions matter more.  Physical pleasure is more special when all the rest has come first, when it means something more than camaraderie or lust.  And that is why for Hobbits it is limited to only the two, when early courting is past, and a commitment is ready to be made.  I am being quite disreputable by Hobbit standards, allowing my suitors so much.  But by Hobbit standards, Fili and Kili have courted me far better than you; for while you gave me flowers and paid lip service to Hobbit courting, they have spent _time_ with me.  And that matters more to me than the other.”  He paused.  “Though in this I have found the Dwarf way has its attractions as well.  I think I like them both together.”

 

“Huh,” Thorin grunted again, and said nothing else.

 

“Say that again and I will not be responsible for what I do next,” Bilbo warned.  “Tell me what you are thinking, Thorin!”

 

“Only this,” Thorin said, and rolled Bilbo back underneath him.  “Do you know why we have that three volume guide to Dwarven courtship?” he asked, as one hand moved on Bilbo’s back and the other to grip his hair.  “If you were a Dwarf, I would be expected to _prove_ I was worthy to be your husband by demonstrating the many ways I could bring you pleasure, and the proving ground would be your body, and this would all happen in the first two thirds of the courtship.  I could not even _begin_ to move on to a more serious courting until I had brought you to orgasm countless times and a hundred different ways.  And often half of this occurs _before_ the courting bead has been given.”

 

“Oh,” Bilbo said weakly, his body bucking beneath Thorin’s.  “Maybe Fili does get that silver tongue from you.”

 

“I see that we have all of us been terrible suitors,” Thorin said.  “But I at least am determined that I shall do better.  And I shall begin now, in the Dwarvish style.”  He began by nibbling on the tips of Bilbo’s ears, and dropping sweet kisses on his face, and finding a new spot on Bilbo’s neck to make a mark, and he preceded on from there, and he made a very thorough job of it.  When Bilbo lay limp and sated beneath him, Thorin raised his head and looked quizzically at Bilbo again.

 

“Did either of them tell you that you will be expected to show your worthiness by defeating my most trusted friend and champion in single combat?  And kill both Orc and Warg to show you can defend me properly?” he asked.  Bilbo poked him in the side.

 

“You made that up,” he informed Thorin.  Thorin laughed, and it made him look so young and happy...

 

“I might have,” he admitted.

 

“Besides, I’ve done all that already,” Bilbo said.  Thorin raised an eyebrow.

 

“When have you defeated a trusted friend and champion of mine?” he asked.  Bilbo smiled wickedly.

 

“Perhaps you weren’t paying as close attention when Dwalin and I celebrated as you claim,” he teased.

 

“One could hardly miss it,” Thorin snapped.  Bilbo smiled smugly.

 

“I had best get used to Dwarven ways, so I will tell you this much,” he said.  “When it was my turn, I gagged him; and I told him that if he so much as whispered then I would stop what I did and would never touch him again.  He was very well-behaved after that.”  Thorin shook his head in disbelief.

 

“I thought I knew you well, burglar, but I don’t think I began to guess what you are capable of,” he said.  “Though I should have suspected, after the caterwauling Nori made.”  Bilbo cocked his head.

 

“Nori?” he asked.  “Why Nori, of all of them?”

 

“Nori is always quiet,” Thorin informed him.  “Always.  Even with Dwalin, and he and Nori...Dwalin has tried to give Nori a courting bead more than once.”  Bilbo began to giggle.  _That sly, conniving..._   Thorin looked askance at him.

 

“Nori _was_ quiet,” Bilbo told him.  “He made hardly a sound!  Except at one point we were talking, and he said, ‘Let’s give ‘em mithril when they’re thinking to find coal, shall we?’  And he started to make _such_ sounds while I was just staring at him in shock and not touching him _at all_ , but he never explained why he did it!”  Thorin shook his head.

 

“When Dwalin said he went with Ori first, I thought he had misjudged it,” he said.  “I think he hoped to make Nori jealous.”

 

“It seems that though jealousy has no place in celebrating, still it occurs,” Bilbo said.  “Nori doesn’t seem like the type to suffer treatment he feels is less than he deserves.  And with his younger brother too...  But why would it matter?  Surely he knew Dwalin would go with Ori at some point.”  Thorin stroked his cheek gently, then ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, fiddling a bit with his courting bead as he did.

 

“Ah, but _first_ ,” he said.  “Not always, but often, first is for someone special—someone you care deeply for, someone you may have wanted for a long time.  If a courting does come about after celebrations—did my sister-sons mention that was a possibility?”

 

“Yes, Fili did,” Bilbo said, exasperation in his voice.  “Though I think someone might have mentioned it _before_ I began to celebrate, not after!”  Thorin nodded to acknowledge the truth in that.

 

“I agree—though I will also say that you took us by surprise when you agreed to celebrate, and perhaps we thought you understood more about it than you did,” he said.  “But it is done now, and my point is this:  first is often the coupling that leads to a courting.  First is for one you want again.”  Bilbo tried to seem annoyed, but he thought he didn’t do it very well.  _First is for someone special—someone you care deeply for, someone you may have wanted for a long time...First is for one you want again._

 

“Oh,” he breathed.  “And you had me first.”  Thorin smiled at him.

 

“I did,” he agreed.  “I stole you away so quickly that none of the others even realised that you celebrated with us that night, for I would not bear that anyone else should have your first.”

 

“You had all my firsts,” Bilbo said shyly, and he knew he blushed.

 

“Though I did not know it then, I know it now,” Thorin told him.  “And no matter what may happen in the future, I will treasure that always.”

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said.  “And I have treasured every bit of this as well, though some of it was painful along the way.”  He paused.  “But the next time you try to give me narcissus as a courting flower, I will throw them in your face.  Honestly!  Conceit!”

 

“Conceit?” Thorin asked.

 

“That is the first meaning for narcissus!” Bilbo told him testily.  “Conceit!  I never!”

 

“You knew I did not know what they meant,” Thorin growled.  “I did not mean it!  And you gave them back!”  Bilbo stroked his cheek.  Dear, hopeless Thorin.  He really was much better at Dwarven courting than the Hobbit variety.

 

“That was for unrequited love,” Bilbo said.  “As you had just told me that you did not love me; you _esteemed_ me; you were _fond_ of me.”  Thorin rolled off of Bilbo and over onto his back.

 

“Hobbit courting is confusing,” he huffed.  “They could mean ‘conceit’ _or_ ‘unrequited love’?  No wonder you looked at me like I had just given you apatite.”

 

“Apatite?” Bilbo prompted.  “Which means what?”  Thorin chuckled.

 

“Apatite is an aid in fighting illness, or a stutter, or to overcome grief,” he told Bilbo.  “Though it may also be an aid to communication, which we have clearly needed.”  Bilbo began to laugh as well.

 

“It is just as well you did not court me with gems,” he told Thorin.  “I would not have known what any of them meant, and would have only judged your courting on whether they were pretty or not.”

 

Thorin smirked.  “Apatite can be very pretty,” he said.  “Though it is not what I would give you.”  Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, but Thorin said nothing, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

 

“Well?” he demanded.  “Go on!  What would you give me?”  Thorin rolled to crook his elbow and rest his head on his hand.

 

“Emeralds,” he said.  “Diamonds.  Fire Opals.”  Bilbo waited patiently, but he said nothing more.

 

“Which mean?” he finally asked.

 

“Love and romance.  Love and beauty, and a strengthening of the feelings the other gems have,” Thorin told him.  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Bilbo.  “Passion—ever growing passion.”  Bilbo’s hand went to the beads in his hair, a fond smile on his face.

 

“Kili gave me emeralds and diamonds,” he said affectionately.  Thorin snorted.

 

“He _did_ , the puppy,” he agreed.  “But as he has only kissed you, I am not concerned.  You are fire opals, and rubies, and lapis lazuli as well, and if he does not know it—I am not going to tell him.”

 

“I wonder what Fili would give me,” Bilbo teased, but Thorin only snorted again.

 

“Nor am I overly bothered there,” he said.  “As he seems to be a Dwarf of much talk and little action.”  Bilbo laughed, but then he grew serious.

 

“Do not discount them, Thorin,” he told him.  “You have made great strides, but you have not won me yet.  And each of them has his merits.  This may be harder for you than you think.”  Thorin rolled his eyes.

 

“And yet I am not worried,” he said, and Bilbo shook his head.

 

“Another reason to give you narcissus,” he said tartly.  “Conceit is not inappropriate.”

 

“What would you give me, then?” Thorin asked.  “Should you give me flowers?”

 

“Hazel,” Bilbo answered promptly.  “Striped tulips and calla lilies.  Oak leaves and elm leaves.  Barberry.  Dog roses.  Pink carnations.”  He paused.  “Red tulips.”

 

“And they mean what?” Thorin asked.  Bilbo blushed, but he met Thorin’s eyes steadily as he answered.

 

“Reconciliation,” he said.  “Beautiful eyes and majestic beauty.  Bravery and dignity.”  He smirked.  “A bad temper.”  Bilbo leant forward and gently kissed Thorin’s lips.  “Pain and pleasure both.”  He paused, and kissed Thorin again, more deeply this time.  “I will never forget you.  And everlasting love.”

 

Thorin smiled at him, his beautiful smile, which made him look youthful and carefree when usually he was not.

 

“I am content with that,” he said.  “Though I maintain that you are the one with the bad temper.”

 

Bilbo pushed Thorin so that he lay on his back and Bilbo could rest his head on Thorin’s chest.

 

“I believe I am content with that as well,” he said.

 

“What would you give Fili and Kili?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo poked him in his stomach, then decided to test if Thorin were ticklish too.

 

He was.

 

***

 

When Thorin and Bilbo finally emerged from Bilbo’s alcove, all the Dwarves but Fili and Kili had retreated down the Hall; but Fili and Kili remained at the Gate.  They turned together to face Bilbo and Thorin, and Bilbo thought it might be hard to meet their eyes; but it was not.  He was not sure what they saw in his face; but whatever it was, it was enough.  A small smile flitted across Fili’s face and his eyes were warm, and Kili rushed forward to hold Bilbo’s face in his hands and rest their foreheads together.  Bilbo could feel Kili shaking slightly against him.  Fili followed more slowly, careful with his healing leg.

 

Kili drew Bilbo into a kiss, sweet as always, and Bilbo could not but respond with everything in him.  After only a moment, Kili broke the kiss.

 

“Thank you, Bilbo,” he whispered.  Bilbo’s brow furrowed.

 

“For what?” he asked, bewildered.

 

“You still wear our beads,” Fili answered, and Bilbo thought his eyes were triumphant—and challenging, as they moved to rest on Thorin.  Bilbo nodded.

 

“I don’t know what will happen next,” he said.  “But Thorin and I have discussed it, and we have agreed:  all three of you will court me, if you still wish to; and I will allow the courtships to guide my choice.”  Kili grinned.

 

“If we still wish to,” he snorted.  “Just try to get rid of me.”  And he picked Bilbo up and spun him around despite Bilbo’s sputtering protests.  When he set Bilbo down, Fili stepped forward and took Bilbo’s hand in his.

 

“I won’t be spinning you in circles just yet,” he told Bilbo with a smile, and raised Bilbo’s hand to his lips that he might kiss it.  “But I will be doing everything else that I can to make you happy.  Everything.”  And then he drew Bilbo closer yet, that he might lower his mouth to Bilbo’s as well.  His lips were warm against Bilbo’s.

 

When they parted, Bilbo knew he smiled widely, and indeed, at this moment he felt so joyful and so very loved; he thought he had never been happier.  But in his heart, he also quailed.  Whatever his decision might be, it would mean turning away two of these Dwarves that he loved so much; and he was not sure he could do it.  For a moment he thought wildly about running away to the Shire when it came time to make a decision, but he steeled himself behind his smile.  He could not decide today; but at some point in the future, he would be ready; and he would face that day when it came.

 

He did not think it would be anytime soon.  He was glad that Dwarven courtship might last a decade or more. 


	16. Epilogue(s):  Kili, Bilbo, Thorin, Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SraDanvers and Aegileif didn't forget Fíli, though I link [this](http://salviag.tumblr.com/post/79521027467/look-look-look-the-amazingly-generous) last--but Fíli has the last word here, so it seemed appropriate. Thank you again, SraDanvers and Aegileif--I love all three of the series; but I confess, this one is my favorite.

 

 

_Madness can be unpredictable, and with such a mixture of madness as this...who can say what happened next?  Though most believe that it happened in one of these ways; and you, Dear Reader, must judge which you think most likely._

 

 

_Perhaps it happened in this way..._

Kili

 

Kili approached Bag End’s round green door with great happiness and no small amount of nervousness, and also a little train of Hobbits who had begun to follow him the moment he stepped into Hobbiton though they were all pretending not to.  What if Bilbo wasn’t happy to see him after all?  What if another Hobbit had caught his attention?  Hobbits courted so _fast_.  But he was here at last, and even if another Hobbit was courting Bilbo...he had beaten out Fili _and_ Thorin.  He was confident he could outlast any Hobbit.  He knocked on the door.

 

He had to wait a short while until Bilbo answered the door, and his reception was not precisely what he had hoped for:  Bilbo stood staring at him, his mouth agape, and didn’t say a word.  He wore that same funny patchwork dressing thing he had worn all those years ago, the first time Kili had ever seen him; and then he tried to slam the door in Kili’s face.

 

Kili pushed his way between door and frame before he could.

 

“Mister Boggins!” Kili said.  “You look surprised.”

 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Bilbo said.  _That wasn’t fair!_

 

“I said I was,” Kili answered, and he suspected he sounded just as hurt as he felt.

 

“That was _over two years ago_ ,” Bilbo told him indignantly.  _Well, that’s true,_ Kili thought, and smiled sheepishly.

 

“I think Uncle and Fili might have been a little annoyed when you not only chose me, but decided to return to the Shire,” he said.  “Maybe they thought if they kept me in Erebor long enough, you would come back?  At any rate, I finally just had Ori cover for me and snuck away.”

 

“Kili...” Bilbo frowned.

 

“I left a note!” he protested, and then he pushed the door open and stepped forward, so that he stood close to Bilbo at last—close enough for kissing.  “And it has been two years.  I missed you.”

 

Bilbo looked up at him, and his eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

 

“So it has,” he agreed.  He hesitantly ran his hands up Kili’s chest and over his shoulders, to clasp them together behind Kili’s neck.  “I have missed you too.”  He rose up for a kiss, and Kili spun him out onto the steps so that the whole of the Shire could see.

 

“Kili!” Bilbo protested, but Kili could see he didn’t really mean it.

 

“What?” he asked.  “I heard somewhere that Hobbits like to watch.”  And he lowered his head, and he kissed his Bilbo—at last, _his_ Bilbo—with every bit of his love and longing.  He kissed, and kissed, and kissed him; until Bilbo clung to him breathlessly, his dressing gown askew, his legs around Kili’s waist.  Finally Bilbo broke away.

 

“Hobbits _certainly_ like to gossip,” he said.  “Could we go inside now?  I for one am ready to progress beyond kissing.”  Kili grinned at him.  _Me too_ , he thought _._

 

“I thought I’d start with your feet,” he told Bilbo, and stepped into Bag End, then kicked the door shut behind him.

 

“That’s...” Bilbo moaned as Kili kissed him deeply again.  “That’s not a bad beginning.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Kili answered, and dropped a peck on Bilbo’s nose.  “Which way to the bedroom?”

 

 

_Or this may have been how it went._

Bilbo

 

It was late by the time Fili _finally_ knocked on his door, and Bilbo’s patience had been eroding with every hour that he had waited.  Perhaps it was visible on his face when he answered the door, because Fili looked at him and took what seemed to be an involuntary step back.

 

“I’ll just come back another time, shall I?” he asked.  _Honestly..._ Bilbo thought.  _Dwarfling._

 

“You’ll get in here right this minute,” he said peevishly, and he stepped aside to motion Fili through the door.  Fili took a deep breath, and nodded, and came into the room.  He stood there, a few steps into the room, and waited as Bilbo closed the door behind him; and Bilbo thought he looked uncertain in a way Bilbo had hardly ever seen him.  As the years had passed and Fili grew more comfortable with his role as Thorin’s heir and the acknowledged next King under the Mountain, he seemed ever more composed and confidently self-possessed.  The young Dwarf he had been when Bilbo first met him had been responsible and well-spoken, but now he wore the mantle of heir with a quiet maturity.  He did not have Thorin’s overt majesty, but Bilbo thought that perhaps he had something better:  a level-headed dignity that inspired devotion and trust in those he would someday rule.  But tonight he was also sorely late, and Bilbo told him so.

 

“You’re late,” he said.  Fili nodded.

 

“I am,” he said.  Bilbo waited, but he said nothing more.

 

“That’s it?” he asked.  “’I am?’”

 

“I have no excuse,” Fili replied stoically.

 

“Let’s try:  why were you late?” Bilbo prompted.  Fili sighed and went to sit down near the fire and once he was seated hid his face in his hands.

 

“Ize ses scrd,” he mumbled.

 

“Pardon?” Bilbo prodded.  “I don’t believe I caught that.”  Fili put his hands down and turned to face Bilbo.

 

“I was _scared_ ,” he said.  “I _am_ scared.”  Bilbo melted, sat down next to Fili, and took his hand.  _Oh, Fili..._

 

“But why on earth, Fili?” he asked.  “I think you know me well enough by now.  I am not so terrifying.”  Briefly, Fili laughed.

 

“You can be,” he told Bilbo.  “But no.  I just...”  He took a deep breath.  “I am not ready to let go of you, Bilbo,” he said.  “I know that when I gave you my bead, I said that I only wanted you to be happy, no matter who it was that gave you that happiness... but I am not ready to let you go.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.  And I wasn’t ready to hear it.”  Bilbo smiled fondly.  _Oh.  I see,_ he thought. _But how could Fili not know?_

 

“Good,” he said.  “I am not ready for you to let go.  And I will certainly not be letting go of you.”  Fili’s head, which had dropped during his short speech, jerked up.

 

“You’re not?” he asked hopefully.  Bilbo shook his head.

 

“I’m not,” he replied.  “Not ever.  You caught me well, sweet silver-tongued flatterer, and I won’t be getting away.”  Fili pulled roughly on Bilbo’s hands so that he tumbled forward into Fili’s arms.  Bilbo hit him lightly on the shoulder.  “That hurt!” he informed him.  Fili only buried his face in Bilbo’s curls and clasped him tightly.

 

“You were the one who caught me,” he said.  “It has always been you, and I have been held fast like my aglet on your braid, unable and unwilling to let loose.  But Kili, and Thorin—I have only dreamt that you would choose me.  I have never dared to expect it.  Why would you?  I have seen for myself how dearly you love each of them.”

 

“There’s my flatterer,” Bilbo murmured to Fili’s chest.  He pushed away a bit so that he might look Fili in the eye.  “I do love them dearly, as I love you dearly; and I have never known how to weigh each against the other loves.  But you said it since the beginning, and whatever you say now, you have always meant it:  you have sought only my happiness, and done whatever you could to give that to me.  A part of me will always love Thorin and Kili, but...  Fili.  No one could resist you.  No one that you loved, and that you made sure knew it.  And certainly I never had a chance of resisting.”

 

Fili moved to hold Bilbo’s face in his hands, caressing his cheeks softly, and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

 

“You will never regret it,” he told Bilbo.  “I will dedicate everything that I am to making you happy.”  Bilbo smiled and kissed him again.

 

“Well do I know it,” he said.  “You do, and you always have.”  Fili’s smile was the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky; and then he raised Bilbo’s hand to his lips, sunk his mouth around Bilbo’s index finger, and slowly drew it back out again, dragging his teeth gently down Bilbo’s skin.  “Oh,” Bilbo gasped.  “Oooh.”  Fili’s smile turned very wicked, and Bilbo gave himself up to it.  “Tell me,” he demanded.  “Tell me how you want me.”  Fili leant so that his weight pushed Bilbo back into the couch, so that he lay heavy on top of Bilbo’s body; and Fili did.

 

“I want to hear every gasp, every moan, every tiny sound you make,” he crooned.  “I want to lie on top of you and feel you writhe against me.  I want my mouth on your hands, and your face, and your toes, and every inch in between.  I want...”

 

 

_Some believe this the most likely choice..._

Thorin

 

Thorin stormed into the room he shared with Bilbo, slamming the door behind him and throwing his crown onto the floor.  Bilbo sat up from their bed.

 

“It went well then, with the Elf King?” he asked.  Thorin growled but didn’t reply.  He was too furious for words.  Bilbo left his book on the bed and came to him, comforting arms wrapping around his waist.  “Have you thought about having Fili do it instead?” he continued.  “I think he has less of this festering resentment that overtakes you whenever you see Thranduil, and he has only grown smoother-tongued with time.”  Thorin lifted Bilbo’s chin so that he might look him in the face.

 

“Yes, I am well aware of how much you prize my sister-son’s tongue,” he said.  “I would not expect him to use it thusly on Thranduil.”  Bilbo slapped his arm.

 

“I don’t mean like that and you know it!” he exclaimed.  “But you might _consider_ that Fili is also your _heir_ , and I assume all that education and training you have put him through have some sort of _purpose_...  Fili may be able to have better luck with the Woodelves than you have had, and it is certain that he could hardly have worse.”  Thorin was reluctantly willing to admit to himself that Bilbo might have a point, but he would not admit it out loud.  It had been a close thing, at the end of his courtship, and he knew it even if Fili did not, and Bilbo did not _think_ Thorin knew how close it had been.  But it would not do to remain jealous of his sister-son and heir, and in the end Bilbo was his.  It was just that this past week had been so _difficult_...

 

“You are right, as always,” Thorin admitted grudgingly.  “It is not your most admirable characteristic, my burglar.”  Bilbo laughed merrily, and that helped; and then he lifted on his toes to kiss Thorin wickedly, and that helped more.

 

“You could send Kili instead,” he suggested with a teasing smile.  “He may be able to convince Thranduil, or even simply wear him down.  He has always been most persistent.”  Thorin growled again and picked up Bilbo so that he could carry him to their bed.

 

“And now you bring up Kili’s _persistence_?” he challenged.  “I might think you were trying to provoke me, my own.”  Bilbo batted his eyes and put on his most innocent airs, but Thorin was not fooled.  Virgin though he had been when he came to Thorin, he was anything but innocent now.  Thorin turned and fell back onto the bed so that Bilbo ended laughing and sitting on top of him.

 

“You are ever jealous when it is not appropriate,” Bilbo told him.  “It is one of your _most_ attractive qualities.”  Thorin laughed.  _His clever, witty Bilbo._

 

“Perhaps you might reassure me,” he proposed.  “I might feel better afterwards.”  Bilbo lifted an eyebrow.

 

“You _might_ feel better?” he asked archly.  “I am sure I feel quite flattered.”  Nevertheless he began to rock slowly on top of Thorin, and it was not long until Thorin felt the need to roll Bilbo over to deposit him on the bed and stand to strip off his own clothes.

 

“Get undressed,” he told Bilbo.

 

“And that is what attracted me to you,” Bilbo said, his voice wry.  “Your majestically commanding manner.”  Thorin preened, though he knew what was coming.  “Also known as terrifically awful _bossiness_.”  Thorin hid his grin and bore down on Bilbo until he knelt above him with one hand on either side of Bilbo’s face and one knee on either side of Bilbo’s hips.

 

“Get undressed, my love,” he leant down to murmur into Bilbo’s ear.  “And I will pleasure you until you cannot move, cannot think, can do nothing but take what I give you and beg for more.  Starting with method ninety-two from _The Illustrated Guide to Dwarven Courtship_ , volume two.”  Bilbo pushed up on him.

 

“Get off of me,” he commanded.  “I can’t get up and I’m wearing too many clothes for method ninety-two.”

 

 

_While others think this the likeliest end to the madness._

Fili

 

Fili stirred sleepily, to find that what had awoken him was Bilbo squirming out of his arms to give Kili a kiss.  _Kili and kissing_ , he thought wryly.  And indeed, the kiss went on and on, until Bilbo was squirming and breathless and Kili seemed likely to tumble him backwards onto the bed.

 

“Leave off, brother,” he warned him.  “I’m courting tonight.”  Kili broke away from Bilbo to grin at him.

 

“Actually, your night was _last_ night; this is a new day,” he said teasingly.  “And I’m just having a goodbye kiss.”  _Cheeky_...

 

“We’ve not even left the bed yet!” Fili complained.  “And as you’re going with him to Rivendell, I see no reason for an extended farewell.”  Kili just dropped another kiss on Bilbo’s nose and grinned more.

 

“But I go to pack and then prepare the ponies, and it may be as long as three hours before I see our lovely Mister Boggins again,” he replied.  But after one last kiss, and a mocking salute to Fili, he released Bilbo and left them.  Bilbo crawled back over to where Fili waited in the bed.

 

“Sorry,” he murmured as he snuggled his way back into Fili’s arms.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Fili hummed.  “I am the one who requires such a goodbye, my Bilbo.  How will I live without you?”  Though he tried to sound playful, Fili was not entirely sure he succeeded; Bilbo’s eyes softened and he pressed up for a kiss.

 

“We have always known this day would come,” he said.  “And we have had more years together than we might have done.  I am quite old, for a Hobbit.”  Fili’s arms tightened about him.

 

“I have never wished you were a Dwarf until this moment,” he told Bilbo.

 

“You’ve mentioned my exotic good looks before,” Bilbo informed him.  “I think they’re a bit faded by now.”  Fili pulled back to look at Bilbo.  His hair had whitened, and though his face was mostly unlined, there were crinkles around his eyes and deep dimples on his cheeks:  Bilbo smiled often.  Perhaps his body was not quite as firm as it once had been.  But his skin was still soft, and his eyes still bright, and though white his hair still curled softly on his head.  His three courting beads stood out against the white of his hair even more than they had against the dark blond hair Bilbo had when he was younger.  Fili shook his head.

 

“Not a whit,” he said.  “You would catch me as easily today as you did seventy years ago.  Meanwhile, I have never entirely caught you.”  Bilbo observed him speculatively.  Fili had always thought that Bilbo had never known how Fili sought to influence him in the beginning—and successfully at that, though the first year had had its difficulties to negotiate; and the end of the first decade had been precarious, when they nearly lost Bilbo to the Shire he missed so dearly—and now he wondered how true that had been, that Bilbo had not known it...  But Fili would never apologise for it.  They were here; and they were happy, all four of them, and they had been for seventy-some years; and that was all Fili had ever wanted:  that happiness, for Bilbo, for his brother and uncle, and for himself.  Bilbo said nothing, however, only lifted his face for another kiss; and they melted into each other until there was a knock on the door and Bilbo rolled away from him onto his back.  Fili moaned.

 

“Don’t get it,” he ordered Bilbo, but Bilbo laughed and wrapped his dressing gown around himself and went to the door.  It was Thorin, of course.  _Of course it was_ , Fili thought crossly.

 

“I have already had to chase Kili away,” he informed his uncle.  “It’s still my night!”

 

“Would you deny your king these few moments with his intended?” Thorin asked, the corner of his mouth jerking as he tried to suppress a smile.

 

“Yes!” Fili stated firmly.  “He’s my intended too, you know.”  Thorin did laugh then, as he picked Bilbo up and kissed him firmly.

 

“Seventy years of courtship,” he said.  “I think it is a record.”  His kiss continued to deepen, and Fili groaned, closed his eyes, and collapsed back onto the pillows.  He thought he drifted off to sleep for a while, but then he felt the bed shift as Thorin and Bilbo sank down onto it.  Bilbo’s dressing gown had slipped off one shoulder, and Fili could hear the gasps he was trying to muffle as well as quite clearly see Thorin’s hand moving between them.

 

“Now that’s the limit,” he protested.  “Get out, uncle.  We will see you at the Gate.”  Thorin growled and Bilbo moaned, but he also pushed Thorin off of him.

 

“He’s right, Thorin; you have to go,” he said.  “It’s still his turn.”  Thorin grumbled but went, and Fili gratefully gathered Bilbo back to him and closed his eyes again.  Bilbo moved rhythmically against him as he nuzzled into his neck to place open-mouthed kisses there.

 

“Go back to sleep,” Fili told him without opening his eyes.

 

“See, there’s the problem,” Bilbo murmured laughingly against his neck.  “Your brother has gone to prepare for our journey and your uncle to his court and here I am left, roused and unsatisfied.  But I have a handsome Dwarf with a talented mouth and a silver tongue in my bed, and I thought he might take care of that.”  Fili’s arms tightened around Bilbo.

 

“I refuse to wake up,” Fili said.  “When I do, it will be the day that you leave me, and I never want that day to come.”  Fili felt Bilbo’s soft hands come up to frame his face, and Bilbo’s thumb wipe away the tears Fili had not quite been able to suppress.

 

“Fili,” Bilbo whispered sadly.  “Oh, my dearest Fili.”

 

“For all your talk of my smooth tongue, you would think I would have been able to convince you to stay,” Fili told him.  “I have no eloquent words for you, Bilbo; my heart is breaking.  Only please stay.  Please do not leave me, do not leave us, before you must.”

 

“Fili,” Bilbo said, and then he was crying too; but Fili had always wanted to make Bilbo laugh instead of cry.  So he began to drop soft kisses onto Bilbo’s face; and eventually their tears faded away.  For a long time they only looked at each other.  Fili did not know what Bilbo saw in his face, but for his part he knew he was trying to memorise what Bilbo looked like in these last moments with him.  When he was able to set enough of his grief aside so that he could, Fili rolled so that he lay on top of Bilbo and kissed him lasciviously.

 

“I believe you mentioned being left roused and unsatisfied,” he murmured lightly.  “Your other suitors are heartless and cruel to do so, but I shall make up for their lack.”  Bilbo giggled, and then Fili began to move above him, and his laughs turned to whimpers and moans.  Fili stored each one in his heart to hold him against the many years of cold nights ahead.

 

Neither Thorin nor he spoke to each other of their loss as they watched Bilbo and Kili ride away to Rivendell with Glóin and Gimli.  He thought Thorin was as unsurprised as he when Kili did not return to the Lonely Mountain with Glóin, but remained in Rivendell with Bilbo instead.  But they did not speak of it.  Fili missed his brother greatly, as he missed Bilbo, but he did not blame him or resent him.  If he could have left his responsibilities to Erebor behind, he would have done so as well.  Instead, he did as he thought Thorin did:  warmed himself at the forge of his memories of Bilbo, which blazed in his heart so brightly that any space for another was burnt away.  He would never court another and he would never wed.  Should Dáin’s son survive Fili, he could have Erebor, or his son after him.

 

He _was_ surprised to learn that Kili had chosen—and been allowed—to sail west to the Undying Lands with Bilbo.  The night they learnt it, Thorin and he both slept in Bilbo’s bed, a space between them as if for their absent lover and brother/sister-son.  If Thorin cried Fili did not know it; he hoped he had hid his tears from Thorin as well.  He hoped that when the time came for him to be called to Mandos’ Halls, that somehow he would be able to meet them again.  But in the meantime, he had responsibilities, and life went on, and it was not all bad.  Though Bilbo was gone, his memories still warmed Fili’s heart and would until his last day and beyond. 

 

He had had more than seventy years with his treasured Hobbit, and he could have had far less.  He would be King under the Mountain in Erebor, and he would care for his people, and he had had many joyous years with Bilbo.  He would be content with that.  Fili had always been good at convincing others to see things his way, and now he would turn that silver tongue upon himself.  Though it was hard, sometimes, when for so many years he had been more than content; he had been happy.  But for now he would be content, until the day he could be with Bilbo again.

 

He would be content, and one day he would be happy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that I am very curious as to how my readers view this ending: if there is a favorite, or one that seems more likely than the others; I hope you will consider dropping me a comment to tell me what you think...and thank you for joining me in this mad tale!


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